Harry Potter and the Spirits Within
by The Power of Erised
Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son. OOC-ness. Re-posted under new name as the old one wouldn't allow new posts.
1. Prologue

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 1: Prologue

_Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son._

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not._

**A/N: Based on a plot line I found (and lost) on this site long ago. There will be Dumbles, Dursley (duh!), and Ron, Molly, and mild Ginny bashing. This will have eventual shipping, not sure who yet (suggestions welcome). It will keep with basic cannon info (i.e. Snapes' reasoning in HP7 before/after his death.)**

**This is written under the assumption that readers have already read the seven canon books. There will be references to spells and abilities without their definitions (i.e. Occlumency) as well as spoilers for **_**all**_** books throughout. You have been warned. I am doing my best, as an American, writing a British based fic to keep the words, spellings, and phrases accurate. However, any brit-picking is much appreciated.**

**A/N II: Newly revamped chapters going up thanks to my new ****beta ****Eristarisis.**

The muggle village of Godric's Hollow was and has for over a thousand years had a notable wizarding history that quite possibly included the birth of Hogwarts founder Gordric Gryffindor. Just another village to muggles, its magical residents included Ignotus Peverell and Bowman Wright; inventor of the Golden Snitch in the 1300s.

At the heart of the community was the village square with a post office, a pub, and a church with a graveyard behind it. On the outskirts of this village was the residence of the Potter family. There was a low wall with a kissing gate surrounding the garden and the cottage itself. The cottage was a two-story brick building and home of James, Lily and fifteen-month-old Harry Potter.

James Potter smiled as his wand emitted puff after puff of multi-colored smoke to the delight of his infant son. Harry burbled and squealed as he tried to catch the miniature clouds. Lily Potter came in from the kitchen, "Alright you two, bedtime." James stood, scooping Harry off the floor, and handing him to Lily. Tossing his wand to the couch, he stretched and turned to follow his family upstairs.

A loud blast suddenly echoed from the front hall. Without a thought, James bolted to the entryway. There, framed in the broken doorway, stood Lord Voldemort. James' blood ran cold. None who had stood against this wizard had won, let alone fought him, or perhaps "it" would be a more accurate description. He stood his ground, "Lily! Take Harry and go!" he yelled, "It's him! Run! I'll hold him off!"

It was then he remembered tossing his wand to the couch, secure in the thought that the Fidelius and Peter would keep them safe. He picked up a lamp from the side table in the foyer and threw it with all the strength and accuracy being a professional Quidditch Chaser had given him. But it was shattered in midair along with any hope of living to see November.

The spell had a green hue, a sound like wind rushing down a tunnel. There is no known counter-curse or blocking spell. It is an unforgivable, and use of it against another human is punishable by a life sentence in the wizarding prison of Azkaban. His last thoughts were of his wife and son, and how much he loved them; and he promised, in his final moment of life, that he would always be with them, to watch over, and to protect them both.

{O.o}

Lily raced up the stairs, cradling Harry to her chest, as she bolted in to the nursery and placed Harry in his crib. Prophecy or not, maternal instinct still reared its head. She reached in to her pocket, only to remember that her wand was in the kitchen… downstairs. She rubbed his cheek tenderly, and smiled. Tears ran down her cheeks, and splashed, scattering Harry's face and pillow with diamond like droplets.

She had barricaded the door with everything she could lay her hands on. However, it was not enough to slow, let alone stop, arguably the darkest of the dark wizards to exist in the last half century. A single blast of magic obliterated not only the door, but also her impromptu barricade leaving her standing defenseless against the Dark Lord. There was no choice; there is no choice for any mother who loves their child. She stood in his path, and did the only thing she could do: Beg for his life, "Not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl … stand aside." His voice held something that simply radiated evil, malice and hatred, "Now."

She refused to budge, "Not Harry, Please no, take me, kill me instead!" She bargained desperately.

"This is my last warning." It was not so much a spell, but a blast of pure magic that burned a furrow across the floor and in to the wall.

"Not Harry! Please … have mercy … have mercy … not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything!" She cried desperately.

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!" He laughed finally. Her mind worked frantically, she needed to protect Harry, no matter what. As the horrid spell sped towards her, she glanced over her shoulder, locking matching emerald eyes for the briefest of moments with her baby boy. With her dying thought, she promised him she would always be with him.

The spirit of James Potter stood helplessly as the mortal remains of his wife crumpled to the floor. All he could do was stand and watch, unable to render any assistance or help. He cursed Voldemort, Peter, and most of all himself for failing to protect that which mattered most: His family.

Lily's spirit rose from her body, invisible to those of the living, including her son. She met James' gaze, and tears blossomed in their eyes as Voldemort closed the distance and raised his Yew wand, taking aim at Harry. Both Potters charged on parental instinct and overlapped, together forming a protective cocoon. For the third time that fateful evening, a jet of green light leapt from the wand's tip.

Suddenly there was hellish chaos. Deafening screams, jumbled images, and wild emotions slammed, struck and pummeled the guardian spirits from all sides. Occlumency and Legillimency are not common or even widely known branches of magic, but the two members of the Order of the Phoenix had learned any and all magic to protect themselves both upon and beyond the battlefield. As the love and bond that united them in life, united them in death, shielding their minds from the overwhelming onslaught. Their protective shield could only stand so long against the unending attack until, finally overpowered; both mother and father succumbed to the comforting embrace of unconscious darkness and blessed silence.

{O.o}

James awoke to a sky full of dancing colors. They reminded him, oddly, of the puffs of smoke he had been creating for Harry. Dazed and confused, the world seemed to shudder and skip around him, until everything came in to focus, and more importantly, the memories flooded back. Lily! Harry! The Killing Curse! Looking around, he saw that the swirling colors made up the ceiling and floor of a square room. The walls, however, reminded him of his own occlumency barriers… but with something different; with new, unfamiliar colors oddly blended.

He spotted Lily across the 'room' and rushed over to her. Her emerald green eyes opened as he knelt beside her. She sat up slowly, taking in their surroundings. She looked sadly at James, "We're not dreaming, are we?"

James shook his head sorrowfully, "No Lily, we died. Last I remember we were trying to shield Harry from Voldemort."

She nodded slowly, "So where are we now? The walls remind me somewhat of my occlumency barriers, but what are all these colors?"

James' face suddenly brightened in revelation, "These walls are _our_ barriers; they've joined together. I remember putting up shields from an onslaught of sound and memories." He placed a hand on the floor, "The ceiling and floor remind me of the smoke balls I was making for Harry."

Lily's eyes lit with her own revelation, "We're _inside_ Harry's mind?" She stood and went to a wall, placing her own hand upon it, "So what happens if we lower our shields?"

James shrugged, "Judging from what we heard and saw before the shields went up, I'm guessing we'll hear and see what Harry does. He's too young for complex thought yet, so we can't really talk with him, but I imagine we can send emotions to him, basic feelings of love, joy, happiness, and peace."

Lily nodded, "So if he's still upset we can calm him." She took her hand off the wall and laced her fingers through those of her husband. "Ok, let's do it on three." She said nervously.

They braced themselves and counted down, dropping the barriers together, ready for the assault on their senses. The walls faded, the colors brightened, and there was ... nothing. Then they noticed a low pitched rumbling permeating their surroundings.

"He must be asleep," said James thoughtfully, "That's why we don't see anything; the colors must be his dream, and the rumbling must be part of his surroundings." He cocked his head to the side listening intently, "It sounds like Padfoot's motorbike."

A mix of relief and worry passed over Lily's face, "So Sirius has him. Although I'd prefer he not take Harry on that bike, Harry's too young to hold on, especially while sleeping, and Sirius needs both hands to steer."

James patted Lily's hand in his, "They'll be alright, and Padfoot could always conjure a sling or side car for him."

Lily smiled then jumped as the rumbling stopped. She opened her mouth, wondering where they were, when they heard a voice they were not expecting, saying a name they were not happy with: "Hagrid, at last. And where did you get that motorcycle?" came the unmistakable voice of Albus Dumbledore.

"WHAT!" Lily and James yelled, drowning out part of Hagrid's response. Asleep as he was, Harry still jerked, almost as if in sympathetic pain to what his parents were feeling. Despite everything, his parents were barely able to calm themselves, to wait, to see just what was unfolding about them.

"... Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems were there?" Dumbledore asked.

"No sir," Hagrid replied, "house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

There was silence for a moment and James looked at Lily in confusion, "Bristol? Where would they be going to need to fly over Bristol?"

As Lily was pondering this a new voice spoke in a whisper, "Is that where -?"Lily and James gaped at each other, recognizing the short, clipped tones of Professor McGonagall, and wondering what in Merlin's name was going on.

Albus spoke again, "Yes, he'll have that scar forever."

Their faces drained of color, _scar_?

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?" McGonagall asked, echoed by the nods of Harry's ghostly parents.

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy ..." he stated as James and Lily's faces reddened, looking livid, "I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well – give him here, Hagrid – we'd better get this over with."

"Get _what_ over with?" Lily asked dangerously.

James was saved from answering by Hagrid speaking again, "Could I – could I say good-bye to him, sir?"

There was no answer until there came a howl like a wounded dog, and both spirits jumped in surprise.

"Shhh! You'll wake the muggles," said Professor McGonagall.

"Muggles?" James asked, completely bewildered. Lily's face, however, had once again drained of color. She did not need to see out of her son's eyes to know where they where: A street with identical cookie cutter houses, and pristine "golf course" cut lawns.

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, "But I c-c-can't stand it – Lily an' James dead – an' poor little Harry off ter live with muggles."

Trapped within the confines of his son's mind, James went from confused to enraged in a split second as tears started streaming down Lily's face, "Oh, James!" she cried, "They're leaving him with my _sister_!"

James pulled her into an embrace, knowing he could do nothing besides hold his wife in his arms, and rage in silence. Damn Voldemort! Damn the Order! Damn the Ministry for its cowardice! Above all else however, thought James Potter savagely, Damn Dumbledore for his blasted interference!

**A/N: Thank you so much to my wonderful beta ****Eristarisis again for your fine work. He and I will be revamping all of the current chapters before posting any new ones, sorry for the delay but it seems silly to post a new chapter only to take it down in a few days.**

6


	2. Through the Eyes of a Child

Chapter 2: Through the Eyes of a Child

_Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son._

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not._

**A/N: Parseltongue will be in **_**italics**_**, to easily differentiate between it and human speech. Also, anyone who has either owned a snake, or done any sort of research on them knows that snakes ****do not**** have eyelids. They actually have clear scales over their eyes that turn milky when preparing to shed (and are a pain in the butt to remove if they don't come off in the shedding process, ball pythons are awesome pets, but have some of the patchiest sheds I've ever seen). Because of this fact, the snakes in my story will not blink, wink, or do anything else to denote having anatomically incorrect body parts, like they do in Canon. No offence J.K., just one of my lil' Canon nitpicks.**

There could be no denying the simple harshness, perhaps even cruelty that the Dursley's inflicted upon the unwanted child in their home. The years marched on and his parents did all they could from within their son's mind to dampen the hatred of his own blood relations. They gave Harry love and acceptance for every hate-filled comment or derogatory slur. Lily would sing to him every night and James would regale him with tales of his school days during the long hours in the cupboard. They taught him to read with Dudley's unwanted books, and told him everything they knew about the wizarding world.

Together, James and Lily explored Harry's mind, sorting scattered thoughts and memories, classifying and categorizing everything. After all, they knew the prophecy, and what it would mean for their son eventually. They worked to prepare both themselves and him, for the day when he would need the esoteric branches of magic like Occlumency; and with their own shields backing his own, anyone attempting to break in to the mind of Harry Potter would be in for more than a nasty surprise.

Most worrying of all was their almost immediate discovery of the link to…something. It hung in a corner of Harry's mind, a malignant tumour that seemed to be just biding its time. Working together they erect the strongest barriers they can, meshing and interweaving them together and walling off the connection completely.

Through their exploration, organization, and protection of Harry's mind they discovered they can create and build within his mind. They recreated Godric's Hollow over many months as they last remember it, adding a full size Quidditch Pitch and an overflowing flower garden. They place all of Harry's memories in the library, ready for when he can achieve the level of meditation necessary to enter his own mindscape.

A side effect of organizing their son's mind occurred when they stopped being able to see everything Harry saw as if looking through his eyes. A little more exploration revealed a section of his mind that acted almost like a muggle cinema, and, after Lily explained the idea to her husband, they created such a cinema and connected it to Godric's Hollow, so they could see what he needed and wanted them to see and kept private what he wanted to keep private, like bathroom visits and, later on in life ... other things.

{O.o}

Time marched on, and Harry grew. Ignoring the Dursley's as much as possible, spending time in mental conversation with his parents. At the age of five he began Primary School with Dudley, even though he'd never had the luxury of attending nursery school – like Dudley - before primary school. The first time he came 'home' with better marks than Dudley, the only reward for his hard work was to be locked in his cupboard.

Not for no reason was James Potter one of the ringleaders of the Marauders, however. He thought for a moment; and then, with Lily's somewhat unwilling help, they enacted a plan to prevent further harm from coming to Harry, especially over grades: False marks.

Following his fathers' lead, Harry snuck into his teachers' desk during recess and pilfered one of the blank progress reports, then headed to the library and the copy machine. After some practice Harry was able to forge his teachers' signature, and put down marks that wouldn't get him in trouble. When Vernon signed the fake form Harry forged _his_ signature on the real one. Thus he is able to do well in school without risking the ire of the Dursleys.

It took Harry many weeks of constant effort, but with his parent's guidance, and the groundwork of an organized mind he was able to visualize the door behind closed eyes and step in to his mindscape for the first time at the age of seven. The reunion within his mind was one of tearful happiness. Unwilling as they were, his parents used this opportunity to explain everything that they could; showing him the blocked link, their theory as to why they are in his mind, about the war and Voldemort. They showed him the organization they've done of his memories, and taught him how to put new memories directly into his 'library'. They also taught him to sense and harness his magical core, to make his 'accidental magic' not quite so accidental.

As soon as Harry started having bouts of accidental magic James and Lily help him work through it so that it's either reversed before anyone notices, or easily explained. When Petunia cut all his hair off and it's back by morning, Harry was able to convince them that he would have attracted more attention to the Dursleys with the outlandish new style that with his normal shaggy locks, and he wasn't punished. When he ended up on the roof of the school kitchens they were able to guide him back through the accidental apparition, telling him the basics of strong desire and intent, to get him back on the ground with none the wiser.

When The Dursleys started leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg's James and Lily didn't know whether to laugh at the irony of the Dursleys leaving Harry with the only magically aware person in the neighbourhood, or curse Dumbledore for introducing Harry to magic so sparingly; for Arabella Figg was a Squib and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. After a few visits of Mrs. Figg acting nothing but muggle however, they realized that she wasn't going to tell him _anything, _and their frustration with the old wizard grew. They tried to rationalize that the Headmaster was at least keeping an eye on Harry, but the rarity of his visits to Mrs. Figg's made this seem a half-hearted effort at best.

{O.o}

It was Dudley's 11th birthday and Petunia was not happy. She hung up the phone in the hall and turned to Vernon with a sour expression on her face; apparently Mrs. Figg had broken her leg and couldn't watch Harry. After exasperatingly vapid suggestions from Petunia, extensive false blubbering from Dudley, and not-so-subtle threats from Vernon, Harry was on his way to the London Zoo for the first time. He was squished against the car door by Dudley's girth, in a comic attempt to make space for the small, rake like, rat faced Piers Polkiss. But Harry couldn't care less about the discomfort of the trip: There were snakes at the zoo.

Harry had the best morning he'd ever had outside his own head. After all, visiting his parents, who shared love and happy times with him, was far better than being around the hateful Dursleys. He got a lemon pop at the front gate, got to see a gorilla that could be related to Dudley, and got to finish Dudley's ice cream when the gorilla in training threw a fit, demanding a bigger one.

As they entered the reptile house Harry dropped back a few metres to avoid the Dursleys and Polkiss. Years ago when weeding Petunia's garden, Harry had found a garden snake and discovered his Parseltongue abilities. Befriending the reptile lead to a curiosity about snakes and he had before long become something of an expert on the subject, even if he shared his knowledge with practically no one. Today was an opportunity to talk to the rare, foreign snakes the zoo housed. Glancing around the corner, Harry saw the Dursleys harassing the Brazilian Boa Constrictor, and ducked around the corner.

The sign on the enclosure read "World's Deadliest Snake." Harry smiled, this looked promising. Another sign identified the inhabitant as a female Black Mamba. Harry peeked around the corner again, noting the Dursleys had only moved down two exhibits, and turned his attention to the case before him. Searching briefly, he located the scaly inhabitant, and blinked. This snake was not black, she's grey; a beautiful pearly iridescent grey, but grey nonetheless.

Shooting another look at the Dursleys, Harry leaned close to the glass and hissed, _"Excuse me, Miss Mamba? I was wondering why you're called a Black Mamba when your scales are a lovely grey."_

She seemed surprised at the question, cocking her head to the side as if appraising him. Finally she raised her head to Harry's eye level and opened her mouth wide, revealing an inky midnight black interior. Harry's eyebrows rose and he smiled. Glancing once more at his 'relations' he leaned close again, "_Ah, well that explains it. You're quite beautiful, if I may say so."_

She lowered her head to the side, looking demurely embarrassed. With one final peek at the Dursleys, Harry placed a hand against the glass and whispered to her, _"Would you like to come home with me?"_

Harry hadn't realized that snakes could look shocked but, after a moment, she composed herself and nodded. Harry turned his thoughts inwards, "How should I go about this?" he asked his parents.

"Concentrate on the glass," Lily instructed, "Focus on every detail. Now, place your hand upon it and make it disappear. Harness your magic, and send it in to glass."

Harry followed her directions and, with encouragement, vanished the glass of the enclosure. The Black Mamba eagerly slithered her way on to Harry's hand and then coiled herself inside one of his over-large pockets. Turning his attention back to the exhibit, concentration and desire to replace the glass pays off. Sweat dripped down his brow at the effort involved but the pane of glass is back to normal. Stepping away from the display, he rounded the corner and slammed, or rather squished, into the rotund gut of Vernon Dursley. His uncle grabbed his upper arm in a vice-like grip and leaned in close, "If you don't keep up with us, boy, you'll be spending the trip home in the trunk." He snarled as his grip tightened to bruising strength. The corpulent swine almost hurled Harry back several paces before thundering to the exit door of the reptile house.

Harry followed after him, wondering if a trip in the trunk would be such a bad thing. It would certainly make it easier to keep his passenger hidden, especially sharing a backseat with Dudley and his crony. "Don't provoke him into punishing you for something you can prevent." James' voice intoned, "He may do more than his threat and it's not worth it." Harry nodded imperceptibly, knowing that his parents would feel his acquiescence. So, once they were back in the car, he shifted his position in the backseat so that his passenger ended up on his lap and under his forearms, his shoulders squished between the door panel and Dudley's girth.

{O.o}

Back at the house, Harry immediately went to his cupboard, pulled his new friend from his pocket, and plopped down on his rickety cot. Holding her up, he saw how truly beautiful she was. Almost a metre and a half with iridescent grey scales on her back and creamy yellow scales on her belly, coal grey eyes, and of course her jet black mouth and tongue. He smiled at her as she twined herself around his raised hands, making herself comfortable. Looking to Harry she hissed, _"Thank you for releasing me from that prison. I know the humans there mean well, but I was not meant to be kept in a box. Besides which they kept stealing my eggs."_

Harry blinked in surprise, _"You've laid eggs? They must have a male there too then, should we have tried to get him out too, or any of your babies?" _

She shook her head from side to side in obvious negation, and took a look around the small cupboard and its bare wood walls, _"My last clutch of young have since grown and been taken to other such prisons, and the male was also from a different prison, I was the only one of my breed there."_

Harry nodded to her, thinking that she was right to call the zoo a prison, and turned his thoughts inwards, "Well, I'm glad we got her out then, she shouldn't have to live like that. I only wish we could do the same for the other snakes and animals that are unhappy there."

"We know how you feel Harry, dear." Lily said, "But, unfortunately, we can't save everyone. This is important for you especially to know, sometimes there will be people, creatures, or animals that you cannot save or help, much as you would want to, and it won't be your fault should that happen, understand?"

Harry nodded, "I think so, thanks Mum, Dad." He sighed deeply, "So, what should we name her?"

"What do you think about Arc-en-ciel?" James asked, "Its French for rainbow, kind of a nod to her iridescence."

Harry nodded again and turned his thoughts outward again, _"Would you like me to call you Arc-en-ciel, it means rainbow?"_

She thought for a moment then nodded, _"I'd like that. What should I call you?"_

Harry laughed, _"Sorry, my name is Harry."_

She cocked her head to the side, _"And what of those within you, the ones you were speaking to a moment ago?"_

Harry gaped at her, _"How do you know about them?"_

"_Your eyes get vacant when you talk to them, easy enough to detect in this little light and your eyes flicker when a different one starts talking. Am I right in guessing there are only two of them?" _She asked with an amused hiss.

Harry nodded dumbly, _"Yes, they are my parents. They were killed when I was young and their spirits live inside me."_

"_That's good," _she said nodding, _"reptiles in general don't really have a family structure; once our young hatch they are on their own. But I have learned of human families by observing those that came to my prison. Human young need their parents, I am happy that you still have yours in some form."_

Harry smiled broadly at her, _"Arc-en-ciel, I think this is the beginnings of a wonderful friendship."_ He said_, _remembering the line from an old movie he'd never seen, only ever heard through the door of the cupboard under the stairs.

**A/N: Reviews are appreciated and help to flesh out the story more; any constructive comments, requests, or critiques are welcome and encouraged. However, derogatory flames and comments along the lines of "you're writing/story sucks" are rude, childish, and betray the low I.Q. level of the commenter. If you don't enjoy the story there are exactly 455,980 (as of this posting) other Harry Potter stories on this website, read one of them.**


	3. The World They Knew

Chapter 3: The World They Knew

_Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son._

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not._

**A/N: Muggle to Magical monetary conversions are done via the ****Wizarding World Currency Converter**** on the ****Harry Potter Lexicon****, the shop locations are taken from the ****Diagon Alley Map**** from the same site.**

As the days went by Harry and his parents grew more and more anxious, waiting for the arrival of a very special piece of post. It finally arrived the day after Dudley's uniform for the Smelting's Academy does. His real family could only cheer in his head as Harry picked up the envelope, sealed with the wax crest of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with a smile. Quickly, before his 'uncle' got impatient, Harry made his way back to the kitchen, slipping his letter into his cupboard on the way. The rest of breakfast is uneventful and Harry went about his daily chores with his Black Mamba, 'Arc', keeping him company. Retreating to his cupboard, he examined the envelope while seated on the small cot. The wax seal bore the Hogwarts coat of arms, the image of a lion; an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large stylized letter "H." The envelope itself was made of rather thick yellowish paper - parchment according to mum - which was the precursor to paper. Turning the letter over Harry read the address and frowned slightly, sharing his confused displeasure with his parents. His address was emblazoned across the front of the envelope in excruciatingly exact detail:

_Mr. H. Potter__  
><em>_the Cupboard under the Stair__s  
><em>_4 Privet Drive__  
><em>_Little Winging__  
><em>_Surrey_

His parents both know that Professor Minerva McGonagall personally addressed and signed every letter to new students, which amounted, at most, to about 30 students. Considering what his parents had told him about the night he was let on the doorstep of 4, Privet Drive, she would have paid special attention to Harry's letter. "Hard, but fair" was his father's almost grudgingly opinion of the Professor, and there was no doubt that she would not have missed the fact that the letter was addressed to "The Cupboard under the Stairs."

"Something stinks," remarked his mother, "…and for once, it's not your cousin's socks!" both were more than a trifle upset that ten years had gone by without a single visit from the Headmaster. The rare visits to Mrs. Figg's over the years should have seen something done to correct the situation. Nothing had changed. Harry was as underfed, improperly clothed and mistreated worse than many a house elf! It seemed that no one had ever known he lived under the stairs until today. Still, there were no professors to check in on him, no oddly dressed strangers in pointy hats ringing the bell, nor was there a sign of a certain tabby cat on the garden wall, as James and Lily knew of McGonagall's animagus form. For all intents and purposes: not a soul cared one whit for the living arrangements of Harry Potter.

{O.o}

Harry lied back on his cot and focused his mind, sinking deeply into his meditation. Opening his inner eyes, he found himself standing outside his mental Godric's Hollow. The door opened and Lily rushed out and enveloped him in a loving hug. James was right behind her and wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders, rubbing Lily's back with his free hand. Harry sighed in contented release and embraced his mother, glancing to his father with thanks in his eyes; James smiled and nodded, knowing that sometimes a child just needed to be held.

"Don't you worry about that Harry, Minerva is a good person and Dumbledore is probably pressuring her to keep silent." Lily said soothingly. Over the years the three of them had grown distinctly cold towards Dumbledore, annoyed at his manipulations and disregard for Harry's welfare.

"Hell, with Dumbledore's connections and influence, he's probably the reason we haven't seen Moony or Padfoot in all this time, although I hope he used that influence to get _Peter Pettigrew_ the Dementor's Kiss." James said, spitting his former friend's name like a curse.

They had told Harry all about the Fidelius Charm, how they had chosen the Secret Keeper and then changed it at the last minute. Harry knew that the only person not involved in the casting of the charm was Sirius because he suggested using Pettigrew to throw Voldemort off their trail. Peter, as a matter of fact, had betrayed them and the rest, as they say, is history.

The three Potters retreated into the home they had created within their son's mind, partly to cheer each other up from the high of getting that all important piece of post and the immediate crash of discovering Dumbledore's manipulations. The elder Potters regaled their son with more stories of their past and of the world they lived in and Harry's excitement grows at the thought of finally returning to the real world: His world, with the wonders of Diagon Alley and Hogwarts itself described by his parents. The wonderful shops of the alley including the Goblin Wizarding Bank Gringotts, Ollivanders, and the Apothecary are defined in crystal-clear detail and fondness. The school seems to come alive as rooms such as the Great Hall, the Library, the Kitchens, and Gryffindor Tower are reminisced on lovingly. Eventually Harry fell asleep on the couch in the sitting room and James carried him up to 'his' room, the only room in the house that had changed from the original Godric's Hollow. There are some joys of parenting that the Potter's could have taken for granted…but they never had the opportunity to do. Tonight it was James's turn, however limited it was, to tuck his son into bed. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

{O.o}

When Harry awoke on his own cot with Arc coiled up on his chest for a long moment, he wondered whether the highs and lows of yesterday were real. He turned his head and grinned. Sure enough, the Hogwarts letter was still there. Harry was on his feet and dressed in seconds. He had a great deal to accomplish.

The Dursley's were unlikely to be much of a problem, and would probably just think that he had finally runaway. When Dumbledore finally tracked him down – something the headmaster would do easily enough – and try to make him return to Privet Drive, his plans for the two months before the start of term will be made. Lily was none too keen on them, but James was all in favour of it. Sometimes, Harry wondered just how it was his parents came to be his parents. He understood, knew, and could see that they did love each other, but they were so different at times. He shook his head, deciding to put that question to them at another time. Right now, he had places to be and creatures to meet.

With the entire Dursley family ensconced in front of the television, it was easy for Harry, with Arc coiled around one arm to slip out the kitchen door and then to the park down the street. One normally needs a wand to summon the Knight Bus, but, "magic is more than just waving a wand. It's about emotion, desire and intent," explained Lily once. And in this case emotion, desire and intent were about getting to the Leaky Cauldron in London.

This early in the day the park is still empty so Harry stepped up to the curb and stuck out his right hand, just as if he was hailing a cab. There was no puff of smoke but the sharp bang sounded like a car backfiring, moments before a lurid purple triple-decker bus appeared out of nowhere, screeching to halt just in front of Harry, where its doors slid open with a bang of their own, "Welcome to the Knight Bus," a young man in an equally lurid purple uniform had leapt off the bus, and continued with what was clearly a well presented and practiced speech, "Emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand or hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this morning."

Harry stared at him for a moment before mental prompting snapped his back to reality, "Er, thank you. I need to go to the Leaky Cauldron and I was told you take muggle money?" Harry asked, pulling a crinkled, filthy five pound note from his pocket. In a rare stroke of luck Harry had found the note wedged into the toe of one of his 'new' hand me down trainers, the latest ones Dudley had outgrown.

Stan nodded and took the note, "Its eleven sickles to get to the Cauldron from here, which converts to ..." he paused and tilted his head, thinking, "three pounds twenty-four pence. Would you like your change in muggle or wizard?"

"Wizarding money is fine." Harry said, knowing there was nothing he could or would buy in the muggle world without raising the suspicions of his relations, should he have to return to them next summer.

Stan handed him six sickles and ushered him onto the bus. Harry got settled in one of the armchairs just in time as, with another bang, the bus lurched forward. He was thrown forward against the back rest of the seat in front of him, and Harry discovered that almost nothing inside the bus was actually fixed in place. Armchairs, sofas and tables seemed to slide around in time to the bus' jerky, seemingly random and erratic movements. Despite having been told, it was still something to see, the way things from streetlights to parked cars, buildings and moving vehicles seemed to swerve, and even jump out of the way of the erratically moving bus.

Harry was left feeling slightly off kilter when he managed to step off the bus onto Charring Cross Road, "Seatbelts, would be a very good idea!" he thought as his father smirked knowingly, "You could have warned me!" His parents just laughed. Standing at one end of the shopping strip, he could see a bookstore, a dingy little pub and a music shop. Strangely enough, nobody around him seemed to notice the pub, their eyes sliding from the bookstore to the music shop without pause. "It has a muggle repelling charm on it. They can't see it unless in the company of a witch or wizard." James intoned in his head.

Harry gave a nod and made his way into the dilapidated building. As it was still early, the bus having taken only moments to get them to London, there were very few people present. It was dark and seemed slightly shabby. Those present were scattered about the room on small lowslung tables with armchairs that ranged from overstuffed to thread bare. With a confidence he wasn't too sure he actually felt, Harry made his way towards the barman, who was busy wiping the counter, and cleared his throat, "Excuse me? I was wondering if I could book a room until school starts, I'll have to get to Gringotts first to pay for the room, though. Also I need you to open the way to Diagon Alley for me."

Tom the barman looked up from the spot of countertop he was cleaning, he studied Harry's face for a moment as if trying to determine the sort of person he was, before his spotted the scar on his forehead. He paled, mouthed 'Harry Potter', and looked about ready to start shouting before Harry held up his hand.

"Now none of that," He said, "I know I'm something of an icon, but I would like to go about my day in peace, if you don't mind. I can't very well do my shopping if there is a crowd of well wishers surrounding me."

"Certainly ... young sir," He said, revealing a toothless mouth, "I'll start you up a tab, you'll be staying in room eleven." He took a brass key from a hook and handed it to Harry. "If you'll follow me, I'll open the alley for you."

Tom led him back to the courtyard behind the pub and tapped the bricks of a certain wall with his wand. Harry paid close attention so as to remember the pattern, noting that the bricks to tap each had obvious wear marks from the millions upon millions of times they had been struck. As the archway swelled into existence, Tom inclined his head to Harry and spoke in a low murmur.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley, and Mr. Potter, may I be the first to say, welcome home."

{O.o}

There would always be things, events, moments in life that you cannot prepare for. Despite everything his parents had told him, none of it could compare to the simple awesomeness of the sight before him. The sun shone down from what appeared to be a cloudless sky, illuminating store signs for what seemed like miles in front of him:

"_Cauldrons — All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self-Stirring — Collapsible__!"_

Moving into the alley he passed an apothecary, the whole place smelling quite horrible, a mixture of bad eggs and rotten cabbage. A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign that read:

"_Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy__.__"_

Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before. Windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, and globes of the moon… and then, partway down Diagon Alley, near an intersection with another lane called Knockturn Alley, stood an imposing snow-white marble building: Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was a goblin. He stood about a head shorter than Harry, had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as Harry walked inside. Now he was facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._"

A pair of goblins bowed him through the silver doors and he was in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Harry walked up to the goblin at the counter and cleared his throat, "My name is Harry Potter and I would like to talk to someone about my finances."


	4. Heritage and Aquisitions

Chapter 4: Heritage and Acquisitions

_Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son._

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not._

**A/N: Seeing as J.K. never created a monetary symbol for the Galleon I have made one up myself so I don't have to keep writing out 'galleons' it is the Latin symbol for Gamma represented as: ****Ɣ, I found it in my MS Word Symbols, look it up if you don't believe me****. I thought it fitting with the Latin based spell work throughout the canon books. If anyone else has done this with this s****ame symbol, my profuse apologies, I did not intend to steal your idea, we just happened to have the same one. Also the layout of Diagon Alley is taken from the HP Lexicon; any stores that are not canon are placed in 'empty' buildings as shown on the map.**

The bank in the throes of business was a remarkable sight, with every Goblin teller seated engaged in some business transaction or another and every booth in use. Harry marveled. The Goblin he had addressed seemed incapable of not risking a glance up at Harry's forehead. With a sigh that only his parents, and possibly Arc could hear, he pulled his fringe out of the way.

The Goblin didn't seem to react at all, at least not that Harry noticed, ringing a small silver bell. Moments later, an older Goblin ambled up to the counter and met Harry's gaze with his own coal black eyes, which once again swept across Harry's scar. Eyebrows raising just a fraction, "Right this way Mr. Potter," said the Goblin, leading them past the counter and through one of several hundred doors. Walking down a small corridor with four sets of matching gilded doors they entered the ones on the far left.

Though now mostly accounts, bankers and financial advisers, the Goblins Race had and would always be warriors first, and as warriors, should be on their guard. The doors swung inwards of their own accord and the Goblin gave a short, half bow to the wizard standing before him. "Greetings and welcome to the Bank of Gringotts, Mr. Potter," his eyes rose to meet Harry, "My name is Ragnok."

Following the prompting of his parents he bowed from the waist, slightly lower than Ragnok had and rose with his right hand crossed over his chest, fist clenched against the shoulder as if holding a Goblin War Axe. "Greetings Ragnok, may your gold forever multiply," replied Harry, taking care to meet the gaze of the slightly astonished Goblin, "and may your enemies suffer horrible deaths upon your blade."

Ragnok broke in to a rather terrifying smile, this meeting, he realized, would be an interesting one. "Mr. Potter," he gestured towards the couch and coffee table instead of towards his desk and the somewhat uncomfortable chairs, "Your financial situation has been a bit of a conundrum amongst the goblins. The Potter family has long carried strong relations with other magical races, goblins included. As such the contents of the last Potter's will is known to us. We we're, there for, curious as to why the contents of the will and its instructions were not carried out at the time."

Harry nodded, hearing everything the goblin says being confirmed by his parents, "I know that I was never to go to my mother's sister. I also never received any, and I mean _any_, sort of communication from the wizarding world until my Hogwarts Letter. I would have at least expected letters from friends of my parents, well wishes, or even birthday cards."

With a wave of his clawed hand, a selection of pastries, cakes and other delicacies were brought to the coffee table, accompanied by a selection of beverages, both wizarding, goblin and much to Harry's surprise: Muggle. "I would suggest trying the Pumpkin Juice." It was Ragnok's way of buying time, to ponder the situation and the disturbing information that he had just learned, "Mr. Potter, it would appear that there has been a breakdown in communication, leading to the wishes of one of our most honored families not being carried out." Reaching his desk, the goblin pulled open a drawer and extracted a single, thick dossier to remove several pieces of parchment, "As to your finances, you will have access to your trust vault in a few days when you turn eleven. This vault is intended to pay for your schooling and day to day living expenses. When you come of age at seventeen, you will gain access to the Potter Family Vault, although you can examine the contents immediately." He scanned the file and grinned evilly, "Fortunately, you arrived before we sent you the key to your vault, and I would assume your lack of post in the past would mean that you would never receive your key."

Harry frowned, "There are apparently many things about myself and my life that are not being carried out as per my parents wishes. How much do I have in each vault?"

Ragnok scaned the file again, "In your trust vault there is Ɣ300, 000 or £1, 500, 000, this will refill to that amount at the end of each school year from the family vault until your schooling is completed; at which time the trust will merge with the family vault.

"Within the Potter Family Vault there is Ɣ100, 000, 000 or £500, 000, 000. As well as antiquities, personal items salvaged from Godric's Hollow, including both your parent's wands, and family heirlooms. There is also a file of your holdings. Property deeds, share holdings, the Potter's will, and birth certificates for the three of you, and finally, the death certificates for your parents."

Harry nodded, having been told the approximate amount by his parents beforehand, he was able to keep his composure as his wealth was laid before him. "Do you have a copy of my parents will?" he took a cautious sip of the juice and found a rather pleasant mellow flavor with just a hint of sweetness to it.

Ragnok nodded and pulled out a piece of parchment from within the file before him. He slid it across the desk to Harry and leaned back in his chair, observing the reactions flitting across Harry's face as he read, the frown growing deeper and deeper, until it was etching furrows in to the young man's features.

"According to this there were _five people_ in the magical world that I was to go to, my God Father first and foremost. Where is Sirius Black and why was I not placed with him, or my God Mother Alice Longbottom? Why was I not placed with any of these other people: Remus Lupin, Poppy Pomfrey, or Amelia Bones?" Harry's eyes widened as her read the bottom of the document, "It actually says I was specifically NOT to go into my aunt's care. That if the above people were not available I was to be placed in a magical family approved by the Goblins of Gringotts!

Harry looked up and finally saw the disturbed look on Ragnok's face. Harry paled and James cursed within Harry's mind, "What is it, what happened to these people."

Ragnok shifted uneasily and cleared his throat, "Mr. Potter, what I have to tell you will be very difficult to hear, much less say, as all these families were close to the Goblin Nation. I ask you to hold your questions until I have finished." Taking a breath he continued, "Mr. Sirius Black was falsely arrested and sentenced without a trial for the betrayal of your parents, as well as the murder of thirteen muggles and one Mr. Peter Pettigrew; the true betrayer. We were told of the switch of secret keepers as a precautionary measure, he is currently in Azkaban. Mrs. Alice Longbottom and her husband Mr. Frank Longbottom were tortured into insanity by Bellitrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, and Bartiemus Crouch Jr. shortly after the death of your parents. They are in St. Mungo's permanent care ward. Mr. Remus Lupin was denied custody due to his lycanthropy and essentially disappeared. We believe that the loss of what he considers his 'pack', and the inability to care for his friends 'cub' drove him into such depression that he let the wolf take over. Madam Poppy Pomfrey works at Hogwarts as a healer, we have reason to believe she was either never told of her eligibility to raise you, or her memory was modified. The same is assumed about Madam Amelia Bones, the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

At the first mention of Sirius' fate, Harry had had to retreat into his mind to help control his father, who had started raging. The three of them then sat in silence as the fate of the remainder of their friends was revealed. When Ragnok finished, they were stunned for a moment before Harry jumped up and exited his mindscape. Coming back to himself, he addressed Ragnok. "This ... is a lot to take in. What happened to the Longbottom's son? Who denied Madams Bones and Pomfrey the knowledge of their eligibility? Why was Sirius not given a trial?"

Ragnok spread his hands, "I can only answer the first question accurately Mr. Potter. Mr. Neville Longbottom was taken in by his Grandmother, Mrs. Agusta Longbottom. He is doing well and will be joining you this year at Hogwarts. We speculate that the same person who left you at your Aunt and Uncle's was responsible for not informing Madams Bones or Pomfrey: Albus Dumbledore." He paused, a look of distaste spreading across his face, "As for the lack of a trial for Mr. Black, the Ministry will have everyone believe that the evidence against him was so incontrovertible that a trial was unnecessary. When, in reality, they were so euphoric at the downfall of Voldemort, that they couldn't be bothered to prove Mr. Black's guilt, using him as a scapegoat."

Harry sat, immersed in his thoughts and speculations with his parents, before nodding to Ragnok, "Thank you for the information, sir. These things will be taken care of. Now as to my holdings, I am aware that I have a house in Godric's Hollow but that there may be some damage to it, has anything been done to repair it?"

Ragnok looked through the file again, "Actually Mr. Potter, it was turned into a war memorial. Preserved as it was the night of your parents death as a reminder of the, 'Potter Sacrifice' they call it. You also have four other ancestral homes; one here in England close to Stonehenge, one in Scotland not far from Hogwarts, one in France outside of Versailles, and finally one in Italy near Venice. You are unable to visit these homes until you're of age, unfortunately."

Harry nodded again, expecting this, "Very well, I'd like to go to my vault, please. I'll visit my family vault at a later time, however. I have shopping to do for school, amongst other things."

Ragnok stood and nodded, waiving for Harry to follow him. They head out the corridor into the main hall, and across to another door that opened to reveal a track and mining cart. After clambering into the cart they sped off through a twisting maze of tunnels, coming to stop in front of a vault door. Ragnok took out a gilded key, unlocked the vault, and handed the key to Harry. He then pulled a leather money bag from his pocket, handing it to Harry as well and explained, "This bag is charmed with Goblin magic, linked directly to your vault, to be bottomless and weightless. The link will be activated after you have placed any amount of money from the vault in to the bag for the first time. It is a small token that I can extend to you on behalf of Gringotts for the problems that the bank has caused you."

Lily was quick to assess that what the Goblin's referred to as 'a small token,' was in fact a gift and a service that was extended to only the most valued of clients. James was quick to point out that having the Goblin's 'on his side,' could prove to be very useful in the future. Carefully, Harry accepted the bag from Ragnok, taking care to take it with both hands, giving the goblin a slightly bow as he did so.

"Thank you," Harry said, "Apology accepted, and I hope that the relationship between Gringotts and the Potter Family will continue, and be a prosperous one for us both." The formality of the language nearly caused him to verbally stumble, but Ragnok either did not notice, or more likely chose to ignore it. Entering his vault he scooped a hand full each of Knuts, Sickles, and Galleons to ensure direct access to each through the vault, according to Ragnok. One wild cart ride, a handshake, and a good bye later, Harry Potter stood outside the great doors of the bank, squinting in to the sunlight, giving his eyes time to adjust as he pondered what the first stop on his upcoming shopping spree should be.

{O.o}

The sun seemed to have retreated behind a cloud bank, but there was enough sun to call it a sunny-ish afternoon. Considering that he planned a shopping spree, the first stop should be the trunk shop squashed between Madam Malkin's and Gringotts so that he had a place to put everything. The sign swung back and forth in a slightly humid summer breeze and proclaimed the name of the store well enough:

_Swiftwing Storage: Magical Trunks, Bottomless Bags, Everlight Packs and Expandable Rooms_

Harry's face bore a massive grin as he swept through the door, to be confronted by stacks of trunks and shelves crammed full of bags and packs. At the far end was a glass display case that also served as the front counter. An odd little man stood up and surveyed Harry and seems to dismiss him as being able to afford nothing more than the most basic of basic trunks, "Welcome to Swiftwing Storage, I am the owner and proprietor, Mr. Swiftwing. How may I help you, young sir?" He asked coming around the counter.

"I am interested in getting a trunk for all my things, not just my school stuff. My relations are not keen on magic and, should I be required to stay with them, I would like my belongings secure while in their house." Harry said looking at the stacks of trunks beside him.

"Well, we have multi-compartmental trunks that can store as much as a small house. However," his eyes once again rove over Harry's unkempt appearance, "They are rather pricey."

Harry glanced down at himself, a sheepish grin on his face, "Yes, well ... this is what my relatives gave me to wear; you can understand my reluctance for their ability to procure any of _my_ belongings. As for money," He opened his new vault bag and withdrew a sizable hand full of galleons, "It's no object."

The shop owners' eyes widened with delighted greed, "Certainly sir." He says, leading Harry to the back of the store where a row of sleek black trunks stood, almost as if each was atop its own pedestal, looking down with superiority over the lesser, stacked models, "These trunks have anywhere from three to seven individual compartments. Each compartment starts as a standard two square meter room."

Mr. Swiftwing actually patted the closest trunk affectionately, "For trunks with more than four rooms there is the option of travel between compartments. The rooms can be set up, for an additional fee, to be a basic flat; with kitchen, sitting room, one or more bedrooms, one or more bathrooms, library, and/or study; or any combination thereof. They are however, unfurnished."

"Each also comes standard with owner recognition charms, anti-theft, shrinking and enlarging, and the 'Domestic Care' charms package to protect from water, fire, dirt and routine bumps and scratches. There is also an immovable charm to prevent it from being handled when occupied. Also, should you want to, there is an addable feature that will allow you to 'key in' a friend or, ahem, relative; simply place your hand on the centre of the trunks lid and state their first and last names. So, what tickles your fancy?"

Harry thought for a moment, digesting all the possibilities. "Go all out, Harry." James declared encouragingly, "Not only do you deserve it, but you need it with the Dursleys and how much you're planning to get."

Harry looked to the store owner, "Mr. Swiftwing, I am about to make your day."

Harry ended up with a seven compartment 'flat' trunk containing a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, sitting room, library with empty shelves, and study. The seventh room was left empty as the future habitat for Arc to hibernate and live in during the colder months of the year. Now outfitted with a trunk, he also purchased and everlight pack for his books and a bottomless bag for his more personal belongings. The bag and pack came with the same security features as on the trunk as well, minus the immoveable charm. Harry even debated on getting an expandable room for Privet Drive, but as his mother rightly pointed out, the Dursleys would not take kindly to him altering their house, and he could always stay in the trunk.

By the time Harry was done, he'd not only made Mr. Swiftwing's day, but probably his week, month and year. Trunks were a lucrative market, but the usual customer would only buy the standard one compartment trunk, giving him a decent income, but making money tight when it came to the pricey tuition of the magical boarding school. This one customer's purchases alone would ensure that he could put his youngest of five children through Hogwarts.

Moving on to Madam Malkin's, Harry realized that he was about to "make the day" for virtually every merchant, shop owner, and stall proprietor in Diagon Alley as he was shopping for not just school, but personal necessity and desire. Madam Malkin was just finishing with a young dark skinned boy who looks to be the same age as Harry, and waived him to the next platform to stand upon and be measured. After the other boy left, Madam Malkin turned to Harry with a tape measure in hand, "Just the Hogwarts Robes then, dear?"

"Actually Madam Malkin," Harry said with a massive grin, "I need an entire wardrobe, everything from muggle shirts and trousers to dress robes." Harry's grin became Cheshire-cat like as Madam Malkin's eyes widened and the tape measure dropped from her hand. After a brief moment she blinked and snapped back. A wave of her hand had her measuring tape set to map out every line and curve of Harry's body, and she moved through the aisle of her shop, a whirling dervish of piling clothing. The hours passed rapidly as Harry assembled a wardrobe of ten pairs of trousers, five in khaki and five in black; twenty shirts in black, white, cream, red, green, blue, and deep golden yellow; five sets of basic black school robes; and seven sets of dress robes in the same colors as his shirts. He also got a good supply of socks, pants, and undershirts in black and white, and advice to go to the shoe shop on the other side of Gringotts.

_Elves and Shoemaker Footwear Emporium_

Lily couldn't help but smile: somebody had clearly been reading their muggle fairytales. Entering the store, Harry was greeted by a diminutive creature: a house elf, according to his father."Welcome to the Elves and Shoemaker Footwear Emporium. I am Hoopy, how may we be serving you today?"

Noting his father's comment of 'Well spoken for an elf', Harry crouched down to be at eye level, "I need some trainers and a good pair of boots. What can you offer?"

Hoopy smiled and a snap of his fingers revealed a wall of trainers, "We have many different kinds of trainers in both the magical and muggle styles. Our magical trainers look exactly like their muggle counterparts but have an auto tie feature and are charmed to repel dirt and water and will resize themselves as you grow." He paused and gestured to an equally impressive display of boots. "Our boots come in a variety of dragon hides, ranging from the Common Welsh Green to rare Hungarian Horntail to the exotic Chinese Fireball. The dragon's hides naturally imbued magic means that they are predictably immune to dirt and water, but are still charmed to auto tie and resize as necessary. Also as most dragons have rather lurid scales, all dragon hide boots come with a colour change feature. This allows you to change the shade to the colour of your choice, the most popular, of course, being black."

Harry grinned, "Well that sounds perfect. I'll take two pairs of magical trainers and a pair of Hungarian Horntail boots." Beaming with his new footwear, he slipped on a pair of trainers, paid for his purchases and headed next door to the Magical Menagerie. Stepping inside the pet shop Harry's attention was assaulted; seeing, hearing, and smelling as many as a hundred different animals competing for his attention. Noting that the shop was mostly empty of humans, save for a mother-daughter pair examining crup food, Harry walked up to the shop keeper, whose nameplate read 'Ms. Aimes', and murmured, "I have a familiar that tends to frighten some people," Harry nodded at the browsing pair significantly, "It would be helpful if we could speak about her needs and care with a measure of privacy."

Ms. Aimes raised an eyebrow and nodded. Moving over to the small family, she helped them with their selection and purchase quickly and efficiently, then turned the sign on the door to close. Turning back to Harry, he extended his arm and watched the woman carefully as Arc slid out of his sleeve; coiled around his arm, tongue flickering as it tasted the air. Ms. Aimes' eyebrows rose, almost vanishing beneath her fringe of hair but beyond that, she made no sign of revulsion or disgust.

"Ms. Aimes, I need all the equipment necessary to create a suitable habitat for her in a two square meter room, as well as the needs for a colony of mice, and the mice themselves. I will tell you now that I am willing to spend a great deal of money on this, however I am also a Parselmouth," Ms. Aimes' eyes, which had been studying Arc with admiration, snapped back to Harry so fast they were almost audible. Harry rose his own eyebrow at this, "There is nothing Dark about speaking to reptiles, just because Voldemort," Harry paused at the expected wince, "Yes, I speak his name. Just because he and Slytherin spoke to snakes does not mean it is automatically evil. If anyone paid attention to wizarding history they would know and remember that Merlin could speak Parseltongue…"

Ms. Aimes nodded and cut him off smoothly, "I am in agreement with you sir. As a collector and seller exotic animals I find that there are a lot of unwarranted prejudices against certain creatures. I actually rather wish I could speak the language myself. It would certainly make dealing with the magical snakes I get from time to time easier." She adopted a more businesslike air, "Now, you'll need quite a bit of equipment to create a habitat that big, where is this room?"

"It's in my trunk." Harry replied, pulling it out of his bag and opening the last compartment.

Ms. Aimes whistled and looked down into the trunk, "You weren't kidding about spending a lot of money, were you?"

"I plan on having her for a long time, her home should reflect that." Harry said, not wanting to get into the whole 'Dursley issue'. After carting nearly half the reptile section of the shop down into Harry's trunk and setting it up to Arc's specifications, complete with a burrow for the new colony of twenty mice, Harry thanked Ms. Aimes and headed to his next destination.

Wanting to leave his wand till last, even though it was clear at the other end of the alley from the Leakey Cauldron, Harry went next to Flourish and Blotts, the wizarding bookstore. In addition to his schoolbooks Harry bought –at his mother's urging and with his father's almost grudging agreement - extra books on each subject as well as books on Occlumency, Leglemency, wizarding politics, magical animals, and various other subjects taught in later years like Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes.

After stopping in the stationary store next door for ink, quills, and parchment; where he went a bit crazy on some colour changing ink and dicta-quills, Harry headed to the Apothecary. It was a fascinating shop crammed with all sorts of interesting things. There were barrels of slimy stuff lined up on the floor and jars of all sorts of powders, herbs, and the like along the walls. Bundles of feathers, fangs, and claws hung from the ceiling. The whole place smelled terrible; a mix of bad eggs, rotten cabbage and a coppery smell he couldn't quite identify. Harry was quick to purchase a little of just about everything in the shop before getting a set of cauldrons at the shop he first saw when he entered the alley.

Heading back the way he came he stopped at Eeylops Owl Emporium, to pick up a post owl. He planned on ordering more books and supplies by post as the need arose for them. From the several hundred owls on display, he noticed one owl, almost immediately. She seemed to have an air of refined and cultured formality, standing on her perch as if holding herself apart from, but not aloof from the other more sedentary or active owls. She matched his gaze with equal intensity. Harry made his purchase and was back in the alley on his way to his semi final stop:

"_Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."_

The gold letters over the doorway of the narrow shop were faded and peeling and the window display showed a single wand resting a top a faded purple cushion. Opening the door, Harry felt more than a bit apprehensive, despite his parent's reassurances. A bell tinkled, and echoed. It was a tiny place and yet somehow, the store had the feel of library to it, a strict one where instead of books, were wands, thousands of narrow boxes piled up neatly, the tallest stack stopping just before they would touch the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped creating a loud crunching noise and he got up quickly off the spindly chair he had sat on.

An old man was standing before him, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. "Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," he said, "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." Harry could feel her shock at this pronouncement and took that to mean Mr. Ollivanders' comment was accurate.

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand, eleven inches, pliable, a little more power, and excellent for transfiguration." James mumbled a surprised acquiescence at this, "Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. "And that's where…"

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches, yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, turns away. "Well, now — Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er — well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own as the wand maker flit around the shelves, taking down boxes. "That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one, Beechwood and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and, feeling rather foolish – much to his parents' amusement - waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather, seven inches, quite whippy. Try —"

Harry tried — but he hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, and try it out."

Harry tried, and tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"You're a tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well…how curious…how very curious…"

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious… curious…"

"Sorry," said Harry, "but _what's _curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter; every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches, yew. It is curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember…I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter…After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."

**A/N:** **I know this chapter is a lot longer than my previous ones and deals primarily with the obligatory shopping spree, sorry if you're not a fan of those scenes, I am and it's my fic. I also know that the Ollivanders scene was taken directly from the book with the Hagrid bits removed; this was done on purpose as I saw no reason for Ollivander to not act the same as canon. If you don't like it or anything else in this chapter tell me why or don't read it, comments such as "this sucks" will just get deleted. As always comments that you like my fic, or suggestions on how to make it better, are **_**greatly**_** appreciated.**


	5. Within the Cauldron

Chapter 5: Within the Cauldron

_Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son._

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not._

**A/N: With the birth of my daughter and the fact that I'm mainly caring for her on my own, I will not be able to update often. I do intend to continue and eventually finish this story; it's just going to take a while.**

Harry deposited his shopping at the Leaky Cauldron, and a quick change of clothes later was on his way in to Muggle London, mulling over the rather bizarre, and almost one sided conversation with Ollivander and the entire experience of shopping for a wand.

Arc may have all she would ever need, but Harry still had an apartment of his own to furnish. Wandering through Muggle London, he finally found a furniture store that drew him in: "Heal's, since 1810." Whether it was the window display or the "SALE!" sign he wasn't sure but he took his time, and wandered through the store, looking about in awe at everything on display from solid wood bed frames, dining sets, and wardrobes, to plush seating. The salesman let him wander around for almost fifteen minutes before wandering over himself. Almost immediately, Harry felt that same something that had drawn him in to the store in the first place. An odd tingling that seems to trickle and trail across his skin, and his parents were quick to confirm what he suspected: Magic. And it was coming from the salesman himself. Harry smiled brightly as this would make it a lot easier to get his purchases in to the trunk.

"I need to purchase enough furniture to fill a flat; including bedroom, living room, dining room, office, and kitchen sets." Harry said, shaking the man's hand and leaning in close, "I trust your service to be _magical_."

The salesman suddenly matched Harry's smile with a grin of his own and nodded, "Of course, sir. Magical or Muggle, we at Heal's cater to all needs and lifestyles! Allow me to show you our lovely mahogany bedroom set to start with, unless of course you are searching for a particular style?"

Harry broke into a full grin as he was lead through a selection of fancy four poster beds, his parents reminiscing fondly in his head of the similar beds in Hogwarts. He finally settled on a mahogany four poster with ivy carvings running throughout the wood, complete with taupe, crimson, and indigo bedding and hangings that rather remind him of the British flag. Finishing off the bedroom with a matching wardrobe and dresser, a pair of bedside tables, some wrought-iron table and floor lamps and an area rug that matches the bedding; he moved on to deck out his living room.

Matching overstuffed black suede leather couches, a mahogany coffee table and end tables, a few book shelves, more wrought-iron lamps, and a large television and entertainment centre that the salesman assured him would function without a hitch around magic. His study was filled with more mahogany bookshelves and a matching desk that he stocked with the parchment, ink, and quills he had purchased at Flourish and Blotts.

For the dining room he chose, again, a mahogany set with four chairs, and a wrought-iron chandelier that the salesman helped him mount above the table. The table and chairs also had ivy carved into them, reminiscent of his bedroom set.

In the kitchen Harry went all out, purchasing mahogany cupboards with black marble countertops, and top of the line appliances; from a double door refrigerator that he could stand in comfortably, to a stainless steel stove/oven combination. Rather like a bull in a china shop, Harry went crazy on chinaware, cutlery, tools, and utensils to make even top chefs go green with envy. The salesman even helped Harry move everything in to the trunk, although leaving the actual positioning and final placement at Harry's discretion; something that was going to take a while, he realized.

The sun was just beginning to retreat behind the clouds and set in the Western sky. He made a last stop at Harrods to stock up on all the food he had always wanted before and could never have. By the time he reached the checkout counter, he had everything from the British fare he'd grown up cooking to some decidedly exotic things that covered Mexican, Chinese, Italian and even America. It would have been tricky without his trunk to manage the quantity he had. As it was, he took the risk of popping it out to drop his purchases inside before shrinking it back in to his pocket, his room in the Leaky Cauldron had a lot of furniture organizing awaiting him.

Three hours later Harry placed the last of his books, school and otherwise, on the new shelves in his study, he took down 'The Boy-Who-Lived and His Defeat of the Dark Lord' and began to read, learning of how the wizarding world viewed him, while Arc headed into her room to relax and hunt for her dinner. Only about ten minutes went by before a chime was heard throughout the flat, announcing that someone was trying to get his attention outside the trunk. Having sent his new post owl, Hedwig, off with his reply to Hogwarts as soon as he had returned to his room, he and his parents had a good feeling who was attempting to get in touch with him.

As he exited the trunk there was another knock on the door and Tom could be heard on the other side, "Sir, you have a visitor. A representative from Hogwarts wishes to speak with you. He is downstairs in the pub."

Harry smiled, and shrunk his trunk, dropping it in to his pocket. With a gentle, almost easy going smile, he opened the door and is greeted to the sight of a smiling Tom, "Thank you. Do you know who it is? I would rather go down there at least a little prepared. I have a feeling they will not agree with my staying here until term starts."

Tom frowned at this implied slur on his establishment, "You are perfectly safe here young sir. Professor Dumbledore should know that with all the times he's stayed here in the past."

Harry nodded, "I have no doubts that I am in no danger while here, Tom. I am quite pleased with the services at the Leaky Cauldron and fully intend on remaining here until the 1st of September."

Tom smiled and led him down to the private room that Dumbledore had asked for. His parents' voices bolster his courage, feeding him information about the few failings they had witnessed during their time in Hogwarts and out of it, removing the all-knowing mystique that the headmaster liked to surround himself with. Harry stepped into the room and immediately realized why he needed to see the Headmaster in a human light, there was a strong aura of magic radiating off the man in such concentration that it was almost a palpable wave. Dumbledore rose to his feet with a congenial smile, "Harry, my boy…." He began and that was as far as he got.

Harry had already raised a hand, and followed his mother's lead on how to address the headmaster he was already beginning to ever so slightly dislike, "If you please, Headmaster: 'Boy' is a moniker turned in to a derogatory slur by my abusive blood relations. I prefer not to be referred to by it. Also, as my Headmaster, it is rather inappropriate for you to refer to me by my given name. Therefore, if you please, it is Mr. Potter, sir." Harry said stoically as he took a seat without it being offered, James laughed loudly in his head, and Harry had to fight to keep a grin off his face.

It happened in less than a second, if his father had not tipped him off and if Harry had not been looking for it, he would have missed the slight downward twitch at the corner of Albus Dumbledore's mouth and an ever so brief darkening of his eyes before all was as it was. It was clear already that Dumbledore did not like his forthright and independent demeanor. "Of course, Mr. Potter, may I offer you a sherbert lemon?"

Within the confines of the only private room that the Leaky Cauldron had, Harry was quick to note that while it did not have any windows, or a proper door, there was a magical something in the doorway itself. No doubt something that ensured privacy and prevented eavesdroppers. Harry found himself wishing he could cast the spell to do that. Taking a breath, he met the gaze of his future headmaster, "Headmaster, I value my time now that it is mine to spend on my own terms, without having my days devoted to chores I am able to do as I please. In preparation for entering this new society, I have decided to study the culture and history of the wizarding world; I also have many interesting new school books to read. I am afraid I must insist that we keep this meeting short and to the point, so I may return to my studies as quickly as possible."

Another ghost of disappointment flitted across the old man's face before disappearing, "Very well Mr. Potter, I do not believe it is safe for you to remain here and request that you return to the safety of your Aunts' house."

Harry couldn't help it; he hardly wanted to, his laugh barked out: fast, loud, and dark. "Forgive me, Headmaster, but the idea that my relations house could be considered safe is, at best, morbid humor. Those people did everything short of beat me to keep me 'normal'," Harry actually paused to phrase the word normal with air quotes, "or at least their version of it. I feel I am perfectly safe here and," Harry had the slyest of smiles on his face as a something clicked in his mind, "Honestly, headmaster, what would I have to fear, to need to seek safe lodgings of any kind?"

Dumbledore shook his head, all traces of a smile now gone, "I am afraid I can't tell you that Har- Mr. Potter. There are things you are too young yet to know. However, I must insist you return to your aunt's house."

Shaking his head in return, Harry frowned, "I am sorry, sir, but you have no control over where I go or what I do outside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Even as Supreme Mugwump there is nothing you can do unless I break a law, which I haven't done. Seeing as there is apparently no reason for me to live in a 'safer'," Harry again made air quotes, "location until school starts, I will remain here."

Dumbledore frowned as well, "There is reason Mr. Potter, just because I chose not to divulge it to you, does not remove the reason."

Harry stood, "Well then, I thank you for your concern and advice. However, based on the information at hand I have decided to stay here at the Leaky Cauldron until the 1st of September. Now, as I said before, sir, I have a mountain of studying awaiting me. Good evening, sir." He swept out of the room in a manner that reminded Albus Dumbledore of Severus Snape. The only thing missing from Harry's determined and slightly more dramatic exit was the billowing of a cape or robes that normally accompanied the Hogwarts Potions Master.

Dumbledore did not bother trying to call the bo - Har - Mr. Potter back… he was probably more than halfway up the stairs. In fact, by the time he had stepped from the room, Harry was back in his trunk, a can of soda balanced precariously on one knee as his parents laughter echoed through his mind. Even though he was trying to study, he couldn't help but share a smile with them, "Can you two keep it down in there? I'm trying to learn out here!"

Their laughter continued, "You should try relaxing and coming in here instead!" retorted his father. To Harry's chagrin, even his mother seemed to agree with the sentiment.


	6. Trains and Tricksters

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 6: Trains and Tricksters

_Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son._

_Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not._

**A/N: Many thanks to those readers who are supportive and understanding about the fact that caring for my child takes precedence over writing a story that offers no return other than the warm fuzziness of reviews. I am doing my best to write when I have the time. However, at the moment, that time equals out to about six hours of my baby sleeping (not counting overnight as **_**I**_** sleep then too) and at least three hours of that must be devoted to studies if I ever want to finish school, get a job, and move in with my baby daddy (couldn't resist the ghetto-eese). Thank you again for your patience.**

After his near spectacular failure to persuade Harry to return to No. 4 Privet Drive, Headmaster Albus Percivel Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot _and_ Bearer of the Order of Merlin – First Class, made a further three attempts to meet with Harry, and change the boy's mind about staying at the Leaky Cauldron. These follow up attempts were neither failures nor successes, as Harry had said all he was going to say on the subject and point blank refused to attend the meetings.

The Headmaster was forced to admit – to just himself - that Harry's unexpected forthrightness had put him on the back foot and wrested the initiative away from him. In an attempt to regain that initiative, the headmaster unleashed his attack dogs, one after the other. Minerva McGonagall was first. As Transfiguration Professor and head of Gryffindor house, she attempted to regale the boy with tales of his parent's exploits. What she didn't know was that Harry had heard every story she told from those who knew them best. His refusal was polite and semi-formal to the Scottish Professor, and she left with a certain amount of admiration for the young child that had refused her so politely, yet firmly, at the same time.

Lily had excelled at many subjects during his years at Hogwarts, as had James, but she stood out foremost in the mind of Professor Filius Flitwick, Charms Professor and head of Ravenclaw House. As his mother's favourite teacher, and as professor of her favourite subject, he – unfortunately for Dumbledore – was met with the same firm but polite refusal, mainly due to the fact that Harry was worried he might slip up in front of the diminutive professor and mention something he shouldn't know.

It was with a measure of shock and irritation when Severus Snape, former school mate of both his parents, as well as, arguably, his father's arch nemesis while at school, arrived. The internationally renowned potions master and head of Slytherin House had no problem making his disdain for Harry very clear and was swiftly and brusquely directed out the door.

The last – and what Harry and his parents thought – desperate attempt to get him to return to Privet Drive came from the Herbology Professor and head of Hufflepuff house. In her capacity as an unbiased representative, with no ties to his parents, she was the closest to success, but ultimately saw her efforts end in miserable failure as well.

While the professors were loyal to the headmaster for a variety of their own, personal reasons, the three unbiased professors come to roughly the same conclusion in their debriefing with the venerable head of Hogwarts, sharing many of Harry's insidious comments regarding the fallibility of all men, and the near hilarious nature of their task in trying to exert the Headmaster's control over a near-eleven year old boy. It left them however with serious food for thought over whether their loyalty – while a good thing – need be so blind. They also found themselves impressed, much to Snape's horror in agreeing with the assessment of his fellow heads of house: For an almost eleven year old boy, Harry Potter was incredibly mature, level headed and even tempered. It was possible, Flitwick conceded, that given who his parents where and the events surrounding that fateful night, Harry Potter could well be a wizard to watch out for.

Between the almost clockwork like houndings from the Hogwarts staff, Harry spent his time out in Diagon Alley, befriending shop owners and picking up gossips on everything going on in the magical world, ranging from the mundane (if exciting and ever changing) love lives of Quidditch superstars to the under-the-table-backhanded-smoke-and-mirror dealings of the current Minister of Magic; Cornelius Fudge.

Within his trunk, the library continued to grow with both new titles and several more ancient and valuable tomes from Flourish and Blotts. Harry also added the large variety of different ingredients he purchased from the apothecary, and ate his way through every flavour of Florean Fortescue's ice cream. The Magical Menagerie owner, Ms. Aimes fast becomes a friend, with her indulgent guidance, educating him in magical creatures and a multitude of magical snakes, including the rare and ever sought after runespoor, a rather remarkable snake with three heads that made conversation not only extremely unusual but also somewhat confusing.

{O.o}

When Harry awoke on the 1st of September, he was excited to be finally going to a place where he can learn to use the magic he has been reading about, and the wand motions he'd been practicing with his quill. He placed Arc in to her room within the trunk, where she immediately set about trying to reduce the mouse population and lets his snowy owl fly from the window, sending her ahead of him to the castle. Shrinking his trunk, he slipped it in to his pocket and made his way to King Cross Station.

Platform's nine and ten at the station were actually in a separate building from the main station and two intervening rail tracks. He was just about to approach the barrier when a snippet of loud, almost shrill conversation reached him, "…packed with Muggles, of course..." Looking ahead, Harry spied a plump redhead surrounded by five equally redheaded children: Four boys and a young girl, two of the boys appeared to be identical twins, "Now, what's the platform number?" asked the woman.

"Nine and three quarters, mum can't I go...?" Her daughter exclaimed in a shrill voice, oddly loud for standing only two feet from her mother.

He paused, leaning against a wall out of the way, and turning his attention inward, "Who are they? Don't they know about the Statute of Secrecy? It's obvious they know where the platform is, her three oldest children are at least old enough to be in their fourth and second years. Why on earth is she yelling about it in the middle of the station?"

James had a dark look on his face as he replied, "They're Weasleys, a pure blood family, and very much on the 'light side', blindingly so. She is Molly Weasley, her husband, Arthur Weasley, works in the Ministry; at least he did ten years ago, so they definitely know not to go shouting about it in a train station."

Lily nodded, "I think she was put up to it to get you to ask about the platform, notice none of the professors told you how to get to it. If you didn't know and you heard someone yelling about muggles would you have talked to them?"

Harry nodded as well, "I certainly would, and I would have been lost without you, both of you. I would have also been worried about missing the train and would be supremely grateful to whoever helped me."

James nodded in turn, "So it seems Dumbledore is trying to get you connected with a light family. Her youngest son is starting school this year as well, he will most likely attempt to befriend you."

Harry frowned, "If he's only going to try to be my friend because Dumbledore told him to he can keep his friendship, I don't want to confide in someone who's just going to betray my trust." With the Potter family, trust was more than a lofty ideal, on par with loyalty, honour and courage. Trust or more specifically, a lack thereof, was what had gifted Harry Potter the life he had. In the few moments that the internal discussion had taken place, all of the Weasley children had passed through the barrier, leaving the Matriarch of the clan looking around the platform one final time before passing through herself. That settled it: She had been waiting for him.

He walked through the barrier, confident in the fact that his parents wouldn't steer him in to a solid brick wall, and emerged to get his first look at the scarlet steam engine that is the Hogwarts Express. His parents had deliberately kept their memories of their train rides from him to avoid spoiling what would be one of the most magical moments of his young life. They had done the same for their memories of Diagon Ally, Hogwarts, and Hogsmead as well. Harry was glad that his trunk actually fit in his pocket as, with the slightest hint of a smirk, he watched the students struggle. They were in a one sided fight trying to get their trunks first on to the train, and then, onto the luggage racks. And that was not counting the plethora of caged owls, cats and other pets, often balanced precariously atop the trunks.

While some of the students were helping each other with their luggage, all of the help was confined to their fellow housemates. There was, Harry quickly realized, absolutely no inter house cooperation and it extended into the clusters of gathered students: Everywhere he looked, students stuck to their houses, with all of the as yet unsorted first years left helpless on their own. He shared his parents' amazement that the school would promote such divisiveness at such a young age.

As Harry made his way to the train he passed a round faced boy in the midst of telling the severe looking woman accompanying him that he had just lost his toad, "Oh, Neville," the old woman sighs, and Harry is stopped short by his parents exclamations.

"That's the Longbottom boy!" James shouted.

"It's Alice's son!" Lily cried at the same time.

He winced at the sudden burst of noise, and his parents cheekily whispered apologies he can barely hear. He'd deal with them later … a practical joke when he dropped in to his mindscape for a visit perhaps. Advancing to the pair, Harry held out his hand to the elderly woman, "Mrs. Longbottom I presume, my name is Harry Potter. I had been hoping to meet you and your grandson. From what I learned at Gringotts he and I should have grown up together. Certain events occurred to prevent that unfortunately. They also informed me of the current condition of his parents. My deepest condolences to you both, while I know almost exactly how you may feel, I believe you may have it worse."

Neville blinked in surprise and nodded, "I didn't think anyone would ever see it that way, everyone always says that I've got it better because they're 'still here'. They don't understand… what it's like… seeing them that way," the boy hesitated, "knowing that they'll never get better, never recognize me or anything…"

Harry gave the boy a supportive smile, "I was able to make peace with what happened to my parents and move on, but you got stuck in a kind of limbo. They may never heal and it will be many years before they die, it seems as though you're trapped in a waiting game, wait for them to either fade and die or heal and live. That is much worse than simply losing them, in my opinion." Harry didn't tell Neville that the main reason he was so accepting of his parents' death was that, to him, they'd never died. He didn't know if he'd ever tell anyone, it just seemed too personal. Though, if he did ever decide to 'come out' Neville would be the one he spoke to first. In truth, their parental situations had become the exact opposite of each other. Neville had his parents' bodies without their minds, while Harry had his parents' minds without their bodies. Yet they also had their similarities; neither boy could ever adequately introduce his friends to their parents, they could never receive an honestly physical loving hug, nor, unless the Longbottoms' condition changed, truly attend any of the important events in either boys' life; graduation, marriage, children.

Mrs. Longbottom smiled at Harry and shook his offered hand, "If only you had been able to come to us, how much better both your upbringings might have been."

Harry quirked an eyebrow, it seemed Mrs. Longbottom knew a bit about his relations, "Indeed, I don't believe mine could have gotten much worse."

At her slight nod his suspicions were confirmed, "It seems we may have more to discuss than our time currently allows, will you allow me to correspond with you? I'm sure it will be beneficial to us both."

At her nod Harry turned to Neville, "Come on. We'd best get on board before the train leaves us behind." He picked up one end of Neville's trunk, his still secure in his pocket, and helped him lug it to an empty compartment. Halfway there he spotted a small green toad hopping along the platform and scooped it up mid-jump. He showed it to Neville before sticking it in his pocket and Neville smiled and nodded his thanks. After securing their compartment Harry pulled the toad back out and handed it to Neville, who immediately placed it on his right shoulder.

"Thanks for finding him, some stupid owl had a go at him and he scarpered, shot off my shoulder like he was attached to a rocket."

Harry frowned, "that's rather rude, people should be more careful with their pets, I sent my owl on ahead so she wouldn't have to deal with the train and crowds, and my other pet is in my trunk. Do you know whose owl it was?"

Neville nodded, "It was one of the red head boys, the oldest one. I actually watched him let it out, before it attacked Trevor." He did a double take, "Where is your trunk?"

Harry smiled and pulled out his miniaturized trunk. Neville let out a low whistle of approval, "That is quite a departure from the norm. How many compartments did you get?"

"There are seven; or the basic flat with a spare room for my lovely familiar, whom I rescued from London Zoo." Harry expanded his trunk and opened Arc's room, "Neville, I'd like to introduce you to Arc-en-ciel, my Black Mamba. _Arc this is Neville, my new friend._"

Neville had been cautiously admiring Arc until Harry spoke to her; his reaction was almost identical to Ms. Aimes, "You're a Parselmouth?" He whispered, but there was no fear in his voice, only awe.

Harry nodded, "I wanted to get it out in the open so if it bothers you we can go our separate ways sooner rather than later. It's not a dark ability; it was just associated with some dark people recently. Merlin was one, too."

Neville nodded in agreement, "I remember reading about that in one of the books in my family's library. I thought it was odd that one of our most revered ancestors had this supposedly dark ability. When I looked further into it I found that speaking Parseltongue is a celebrated ability in places like Australia, Africa, and China, where poisonous snakes are prevalent."

Harry smiled and extended his arm out to Neville slightly, offering to let him hold Arc. Neville accepted her without hesitation and held her up to his face, looking into her eyes. Arc cocked her head to the side and stared intently at Neville for a moment, her tongue flicking out a few times, before turning to Harry and hissing at him. Harry laughed in response.

Neville raised a brow, "What did she say?" he asked.

Still chuckling, Harry replied, "She said she likes you - even if you do smell of toad."

{O.o}

The boys settled comfortably in to their compartment, lounging across seats and space normally reserved for at least six people. Arc had found a comfortable perch, coiled around Neville's waist and along his arm. Trevor had settled in on Harry's outstretched leg and with Neville's trunk on the floor between them, they had an impromptu card table. Harry had brought a muggle deck of cards with him; something Neville thought was brilliant as he hated playing with exploding snap decks. Harry taught him simple card games such as Black Jack and War. They bought a little of everything each from the lady with the snack cart; Harry's favourite being the Pumpkin Pasties and Neville's being the Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. After an hour or two their compartment door slid open; standing in the doorway was the youngest redheaded boy. He surveyed the compartment, noting the pile of sweets and the muggle cards before he noticed Arc wrapped around Neville. His eyes widened and he pointed to her with a shaky hand, "What have you got a great bloody snake wrapped around you for?"

Lily hissed in indignation at the boy's language and Harry frowned, "She's my familiar, she's wrapped around Neville because she likes him." Neville started stroking her head to emphasize the point.

The boy's mouth dropped open before he stuttered out, "H-How do you know it likes him?"

Harry's frown deepened, "SHE told me she likes him, that's how I know."

His eyes snapped to Harry at this and his voice hardened, "You're a Parseltongue?" he exclaimed.

"First off, he is a Parsel_mouth_; Parsel_tongue_ is the language he speaks. Secondly, so what if he is?" Neville demanded, "Merlin was a Parselmouth too. Just because two famous Dark Wizards were Parseltongues doesn't mean that everyone that _inherits_ the ability is born dark. You shouldn't judge people based on things they have no control over, it would be as if we automatically didn't like you because you have red hair. It's not something you can choose to have." Neville was on his feet by now, Arc sliding around his arm and waist, in constant motion from Neville's agitation.

The boy's features darken and he shook his head, "Its evil."

"Show's what you know. It is a precious commodity in countries like Australia, Africa, and China because of all the indigenous poisonous snakes there, like Arc here." Harry said, gesturing to her as he also stood, shifting Trevor to his shoulder.

His eyes snapped back to Arc and his face drained of colour, "It's poisonous?" he asked taking a step back and out of the compartment.

"Yes, SHE is and SHE does not appreciate being referred to as an 'it', nor do I. So if you would kindly take your narrow-minded bigoted views somewhere else." Harry made shooing motions at the youngest redhead as Neville slammed the door in his face, using his left hand to practically thrust Arc as close to the rude boy as possible.

No sooner did they settle back down before their door was slid open once again, this time revealing a skinny, pointy faced boy with silvery blonde hair. "That Weasley boy was complaining about a poisonous snake in this compartment. I see he was correct," there was admiration in his voice as he studied the still coiled snake for a moment, "That, is a beautiful Black Mamba."

Arc hissed at his words and noticeably preened. Harry laughed and shook his head.

"What did she say?" Neville asked a small grin on his face as he stroked her head again, to her enjoyment.

"She said she knows she's beautiful." Harry laughed.

The pointy faced boy's eyebrows shot up in shock, "You're a Parselmouth?"

Neville groaned as Harry rolled his eyes, "Not this again." Neville mumbled, his face in his palm, "At least _he _knows that it's Mouth and not Tongue."

"Yes, I'm a Parselmouth and no, I'm not a 'Dark Wizard'" Harry said, again making air quotes, "Just because I was born with certain abilities doesn't make me inherently evil."

The boy raised his hands in a placating gesture, "I didn't say you were evil, I was just surprised. It's a very uncommon, if not rare gift."

"Well at least your open minded, this is Arc-en-ciel, Trevor, Neville Longbottom," Harry said, pointing to each in turn, "and I'm Harry Potter."

As expected, the boy's eyes shot to the scar on Harry's face, but he immediately lowered his gaze to Harry's eyes, "Sorry about that, it was a reflex. It's a pleasure to meet you both; my name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Harry smiled at his name and Draco's eyes narrowed, "Do you think my name is funny?"

Harry shook his head quickly, "No, I like it. It means dragon."

Draco smiled at that and moved further into the compartment; offering his hand first to Neville, then Harry.

"Would you like to join us for the rest of the trip?" Neville offered, lifting his feet off the seat in invitation.

"Yes, feel free; we have plenty of treats too. Nev and I already ate all of our favourites, but you're welcome to the chocolate frogs, cauldron cakes, and Bertie Bott's." Harry added, gesturing to the pile of sweets. Draco nodded, grinning, and took the offered seat and a box of the every flavour beans.


	7. An Odd Sort

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 7: An Odd Sort

Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not.

**A/N: I'm sorry for the overly long wait, I had finished this chapter and was about to load it when I accidentally saved over it and lost the whole thing, so I had to re-type it. I have had several questions about Hermione, I didn't have Harry and Co. meet her on the train because the reasons for her going into Harry's compartment were no longer there. Harry found Trevor for Neville, so she wasn't looking for him, and Draco befriended the two boys, so she had no reason to enter their compartment to tell them off for fighting. She will, however, be one of Harry's friends, I plan for him to have many more than just the two he had for half the series.**

**A/N II: one of my readers pointed out that Harry had already met McGonagall and Dumbledore, so I went back and fixed that lil flub. Thanks again Keronshara.**

Draco, Neville and Harry had passed the remainder of the trip to Hogwarts together, alternating between conversation, laughter and a comfortable silence. It was Draco who noticed that the train seemed to be slowing, confirmed by the fact that the countryside was no longer streaming by. Figuring it was about the right time, they had barely shed their jackets before a disembodied voice echoed through the train, "We will be reaching Hogsmead Station in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry grinned in anticipation and the two boys mirrored him. The friendship was new, but the fact that they were in the same boat had eased most of their nerves. The last of the sweets, candies and pastries disappeared in to Harry's trunk. Arc was returned to her habitat, and was accompanied by Trevor. Shrinking his trunk and pocketing it, he joined the mish mash of students in the corridor, shuffling his way towards the exit, stumbling out onto the tiny, barely lit platform. There was no wind, but still, tendrils of chill seem to wisp around him, sucking the warmth from the gaggle of children Harry recognized as the rest of the first years.

Out of the darkness, a lamp flared to life, illuminating a giant of a man, who seemed to be more beard and hair than actual face. His voice was a deep boom, like a cannon firing, that grabbed and held their attention more than his words ever could, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed the large man down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. "Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," their guide called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud, "Oooooh!"as the narrow path opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" the huge man called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Neville, and Draco were followed into their boat by a nervous looking bushy-haired witch. "Everyone in?" he shouted, filling a boat by himself. "Right then — Forward!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled the walking mountain as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they climbed out onto rocks and pebbles. They then clambered up a passageway in the rock after the massive man's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. "Everyone here?" the immense man raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

As the castle doors opened, Harry caught sight of a magnificently large cavernous room. Then Harry saw who had opened the doors; when he had been staying at the Leaky Cauldron, she had been the first of the Heads of House that Dumbledore had sent. Attempting to sway him with his parent's antics in their school days and feeling certain that Harry would follow them into her house.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the giant man.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was lit by torches; its ceiling was so high it was barely visible. There was a wide marble staircase opposite them, double doors to their right, and smaller doors scattered about. As they were led across the flagstone floor to one of the smaller doors off to the left, Harry's attention was caught by four massive hourglasses; filled, not with, sand, but with gemstones as big as his fist. The first glass held innumerable fire red rubies, the second contained cobalt blue sapphires, within the third were forest green emeralds, and the fourth possessed golden yellow citrines.

Professor McGonagall left them in a small room after delivering a speech that his parents quoted along with her, word for word. Harry, Neville, and Draco were chatting about what they needed to do to be sorted. This was one of the things his parents had remained tight-lipped about; saying only that it was tradition for the 'firsties' not to know. They scoffed at the Weasley boy telling a sandy-haired boy that his brother told him they have to wrestle a troll, which is – although Harry won't admit it, comforting in its own way, "Maybe it's a quiz, like a survey or something. They ask us stuff about ourselves and figure out where to put us from there." Harry suggested.

"No, that would take way to long." Draco replied, "Perhaps it's a spell they perform, and you turn the color of your house."

Harry and Neville nodded, thinking this plausible, "yeah, or we could put our names in a goblet or a hat or something and it spits it back out according to house, kind of like the cup from the Tri-wizard Tournament."

Draco nodded at this suggestion, but Harry was lost, "What's the Tri-wizard Tournament?"

He was on the verge of getting an answer in stereo from his friend and his parents, when the bushy-haired witch they'd shared their boat with joined them, "It's a competition between the three most prestigious schools in Europe. They each have a champion to fight for the school in three tasks and the champions are chosen by The Goblet of Fire. I read about it in a book about this school, Hogwarts: a History. I tried to find something on the sorting but they purposefully left out any information on it. My name is Hermione Granger, by the way. No one in my family is magical at all; it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, though it did explain all the odd things that had been happening when I was growing up, thank you for letting me share your boat with you."

Draco and Neville seemed to be in shock after this little spiel. Truth be told, Harry was too, but he had parents to bail him out, or his mother at least. "Poor dear, she must be terrified. She's doing the same thing I did when I first got here. Never knowing about magic until you get this strange letter, and then whisked away to this mid-boggling place where everything is new and different and you have no one to help you through it. I remember after my little rant was ill-received I didn't speak to another person, aside from the professors, for an entire week; I was so lonely until I became friends with Alice, Neville's mother."

Harry, in a fit of compassion, held out his hand to the young witch. Wanting to prevent her from going through what had happened to his mum. Her features lit up and she smiled broadly, revealing rather overlarge front teeth.

"This is Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy," each boy nodded as he was introduced, "and I am Harry Potter." He finished.

Oddly enough, her eyes did not flick up to his scar, though they did attempt to widen to the size of galleons. "You're Harry Potter? I've read about you, you're in several books."

Harry acted shocked –even though he'd read a great deal about himself during his summer studying – more to give Hermione and the rest a topic of conversation, to hopefully enlarge his circle of friends. Neville and Draco nodded confirming what she says, "What do they say about me?" he asked, even as his father mocked him about being a touch too snake like for his own good… whatever than meant.

"They mainly talk about what happened the night you defeated You-Know-Who." Neville answered.

Harry frowned at this, "I didn't defeat Voldemort." The three of them gasped and flinched, and he decided to nip this in the bud immediately, "What?"

"No one says his name; we just say "You-Know-Who" or "He-who-Must-Not-Be-Named"." Draco answered.

"His followers called him The Dark Lord." Neville added in a soft whisper, and Harry nodded, well aware that it could not be an easy topic for his friend to talk about.

Then Harry scoffed, "That's ridiculous, and I'm not going to be afraid of saying the name of a man who's been basically dead for the past ten years. Anyway I didn't defeat him, I was the only known survivor of that night, and no body was recovered. There is no proof that he is dead, and I'm not going to be caught off guard if he does return. Out of respect for others I won't say his chosen name in public. But I'm not calling him by those absurd titles. I'll call him," he paused for a moment to run through names with his dad, "The Dork Lord, He-Who-Must-Be-Hyphenated, or Moldy Voldie. I can't think of a good substitute for You-Know-Who yet."

His three new friends looked at him with a mixture of incredulity and amazement; never had they heard someone talk of the most evil wizard of their time with such blasé disrespect. They were saved from formulating a response by a scream from the back of the room. Some twenty-odd ghosts had just glided through the back wall. They were talking amongst themselves, apparently oblivious to the students milling about in the room, until one of them, a portly monk by the looks of him, took notice.

"New students!" said the ghost Lily identifies as the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely, "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," a sharp voice said. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall, "Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

The four of them joined the line of students and headed back across the entrance hall to the double doors Harry had seen earlier. The room on the other side of those doors was, in two words, absolutely breathtaking. Thousands, possibly more than a hundred thousand candles floated in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were seated. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Harry's eyes were drawn upward and he sees a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Hermione leant over and whispers, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in than book, _Hogwarts, a History_."

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then the hat twitched, ripped open on one side, and began singing a song about the qualities of the different houses.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

Professor McGonagall then stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. After a moment's pause —

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down with the Hufflepuffs. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan dashed off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined their ranks.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Weasley's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became the first Slytherin.

The Slytherin table was more self-possessed than the rest of the hall, but they applauded cordially for Millicent.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but with others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Weasley in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly onto her head.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat. Hermione waved to Harry, Neville, and Draco, before heading to her table.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

The hat took a long time to decide with Neville, but it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Neville waved to Harry and Draco as he went to the Gryffindor table.

Draco stepped forward when his name was called and gets placed at once: the hat barely touched his head when it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

He headed to the Slytherin table after waving to Harry, looking pleased.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon"…, "Nott"…,

"Parkinson"…, then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"…, then "Perks, Sally-Anne"…, and then, at last —

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"_Potter_, did she say?"

"_The _Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited. _"Well, well, well."_ said a small voice in his ear. "_What have we here, Lily Evans and James Potter?"_

Harry's fingers gripped the edges of the stool in panic, _"Don't tell anyone_. _Please, we don't want anyone to know!"_

_"Ah, you mean you don't want Dumbledore to know_." said the small voice. _"Don't you worry dear boy, the old coot is dipping his quill into too many inkwells as of late … get your mind out of the gutter James Potter, you know what I mean. Anyway, I would be delighted to pull the wool over his eyes for once."_

"_Thank you, err, Mr. Hat…"_

"_Call me Sortie, I was given that name by one Xenophilius Lovegood years ago and took rather a liking to it. Now where to place you, you are quite well rounded for an adolescent, no doubt due to your parents influence, you could fit in any of the houses really. Well, I've placed your other friends in separate houses, perhaps you four can finally bring my houses to a unity that hasn't been seen since the Founders days. To that end you shall be in – _HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walks toward the Hufflepuff table. He was so relieved to have Sortie play along and not tell Dumbledore, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. A boy who introduced himself as Cedric Diggory got up and shook his hand warmly.

Harry sat down opposite the Fat Friar. The Friar pat his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water. Shaking off the feeling, Harry looked down at his empty golden plate.

"Bit ostentatious, don't you think?" He mentally asked his parents.

"Actually, they used to be silver, but they had to change them the year we came to school." James replied.

"Really? What for?" Harry asked.

"That year, a boy came to the school that had an illness that was affected by silver. He was the kindest, smartest boy I knew. His name was Remus Lupin and he was, and still is, a werewolf." James said solemnly, a rare emotion for him.

He could see the High Table properly now. There, in the center of the High Table, in a large golden chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. He was looking at Harry with a combination of surprise and disappointment; apparently he didn't want his little savior in Hufflepuff. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry looked back to the few remaining first years and had to bite his tongue to keep from bursting into laughter. The Weasley boy was staring at him with a mix of horror and defeat.

"Aww seems he finally realizes who he was insulting on the train, so much for trying to worm his way into your circle of friends." James laughed.

"We don't know for certain that he was told to do that, though that expression leaves little doubt." Lily replied.

Now there were only four people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a tall black boy, joined Neville at the Gryffindor table.

"Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw, sitting next to Hermione, and then "Weasley, Ronald". After a few moments the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry felt bad for Neville as Ronald Weasley gave him a contemptuous look and sat next to one of his twin brothers. Finally the last first year was called and "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin, joining Draco.

**A/N: Well there you have it; the poll ended with a tie between Ravenclaw and 'Surprise Us', so I decided to surprise you all. Hopefully no one minds his placement too much; oddly enough Gryffindor got the least amount of votes. Any suggestions on a derogatory variation on You-Know-Who would be very welcome. I don't want to use U-No-Poo as that seems like I took it from Gred and Forge. Most hilarious one will get recognition in the authors' notes and my profound thanks.**


	8. Castle Curiosities

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 8: Castle Curiosities

Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not.

**A/N: I'm so sorry to those readers who have been waiting for this chapter. My baby started taking up a lot more of my time, especially when she got sick. She's fine now but has stopped sleeping through the night, fun fun ( note the sarcasm). So the drive to type in the little free time I get now has waned a bit. Hopefully this chapters' completion marks a new period of inspiration.**

Harry slowly followed the Hufflepuff prefect, heading to the dormitories and Badger territory. For once his parents were just as excited; this was a completely new experience for all of them. Both James and Lily had been sorted into Gryffindor, and while they had had friends in the other houses (Lily had even had a friend in Slytherin; Severus Snape), they had never been in the other dormitories. The Prefect led the First Years through the doors of the great hall and towards the grand staircase. However, instead of going up the stairs they ware lead to a door off to the right. After descending a flight of stairs they came to a still life painting. The Prefect, whose name Harry still didn't know, beckoned them forward, "This is the entrance to our common room, and the password will be changed roughly once every other week. Right now it is Loyalty."

The portrait door swung open. Through the circular opening behind it Harry could see a sunny room full of golden yellow furnishings offset with accents of sable black. Following the others into the room Harry noticed that the room was arranged rather oddly. Rather than having separate sections for studding, playing games, and socializing, everything was rather haphazardly placed around the open room. He turned toward the prefect again as he started speaking again, "Now I know our set up seems a bit slap dash, but we firmly believe in unity and devotion. Everyone works and cooperates with each other. We act as a family unit." His voice grew slightly cold, "We are looked on as the weakest of the four houses, the leftovers, the rejects, the ones who weren't good enough to get into the other houses. For this we must band together within our house to prevent the others from taking advantage of us. I won't sugar coat it for you; even with the famed Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry Hufflepuffs are the ones most often jinxed, cursed, tricked, been the butt of cruel jokes, and even attacked ... both physically and sexually." There were shocked gasps around the group. "Yes, this is why we must stick together as a house. They may treat us as the underdogs, but this also means they underestimate us. They think we are all pushovers and if we are open and honest with each other when one of us is attacked the attacker will have the entire houses retaliation to deal with. Now, the boys rooms are down the hall on the right and the girls are down the hall to the left; a brief warning to the boys, the girls hall is spelled to trap any boy stepping foot within it, so don't try. Alright, have a good night and we'll see you in the morning."

Harry followed the other First Year boys down the right-hand hall and to their door. All of the dormitory doors were, black, perfectly round, like a barrel top, with the shiny gilded knob set in the centre. Lily remarked that they were like the hobbit holes in Tolkien's 'The Hobbit'; one of her favourite books. In the First Year dorm room there were three beds; one for him and one each for Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie MacMillan. They were interspersed around a circular room; the four-poster beds were hung with golden yellow drapes and laid with black bedding. Beside each bed was a small desk and chair; for homework and studying. At the foot of two of the beds was a standard black trunk, Harry immediately knew which bed was his as his trunk was still securely tucked into his pocket. The other two boys were exploring the room as well, Ernie was at the other side where he opened an identical door, revealing a full bathroom; complete with shower and tub. Justin was reading the names on the identical trunks, announcing that the bed to the left of Harry's bed was his and the one to the right was Ernie's.

Justin looked up at Harry in confusion, "Did you not bring a trunk Harry?"

Harry grinned and nodded, "Oh, I did. When I went to Diagon Alley I was alone, so I went a bit overboard with my purchases. Of course seeing as I didn't have any wizarding possessions before then, I could have done even worse and only gotten the barest essentials. Anyway, when I got to the trunk shop I found the multi-compartment trunks and saw the usefulness in them, so I got one." He pulled his trunk from his pocket, set it in front of his bed, and enlarged it. The other two boys stared and moved in closer. Harry ran his hand across the seven locks on his trunk and opened the first one, revealing his 'library' compartment. Justin a muggleborn, who was not as accustomed to magic gaped, and Ernie; a pure-blood, whistled appreciatively. "I have quite an extensive collection of books now, although I've yet to read many of them." He closed the lid and opened the second lock, inside this one is his sitting room and the boys admire it briefly before moving on through each lock viewing the kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, and study. Harry paused before the final, seventh lock. "There is something you need to know and accept before I will show you this compartment. I have heard that I possess a unique gift, even for a wizard. Before I tell you what it is, I want to make it known that Merlin himself had this ability, and that only recently has it been viewed as 'dark'." Harry paused and took a breath, "I am a Parselmouth."

Both the boys mouths dropped open before Ernie composed himself and nodded, "One of my several times great uncle was one as well, he was ridiculed for it because of Slytherin's reputation. Many people tend to want to forget that the greatest wizard of our past was a Snake Speaker, they only want to acknowledge those who were dark with the ability."

By the end of this revealing piece of information Justin was nodding, already accepting Harry's ability. He paused, "Why are you telling us this, do you have a snake in that last compartment?"

Harry laughed and nodded, "As a matter of fact," he unlocked the final lock and opened the lid. Arc slid out, having been resting on a branch near the opening, "I do! Gentlemen, meet Arc-en-ciel, Arc for short. I'm going to introduce you to her, so I'll be speaking in hisses; it's a bit unnerving at first so brace yourselves." He turns back to Arc, "_These are Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan, and they are to be our roommates._"

Turning back to the boys Harry noted that they both looked a bit peaky. Ernie was the first to speak, "Well that was disturbing, I can almost see how it can be thought of as dark. It sounds menacing no matter what you say, and you were just introducing us, right?"

Harry nodded, "The funny thing is; I don't hear it, when she talks or I speak to her, I hear it as English. There is no hissing."

"Well that's bizarre, I wonder if it was that way with your great uncle, Ernie." Justin mused.

Ernie shrugged, "I don't know, he never really spoke of it, considering how ostracized he was because of it."

Harry nodded, pulling out his pyjamas before shrinking his trunk again, "I can understand that, I had a rather unpleasant encounter with a narrow-minded boy on the train. Ron Weasley, now a Gryffindor, was adamant that it was evil and he wouldn't hear anything to the contrary. Now, you may be wondering why I chose to show you all of this instead of just keeping it to myself, including Arc and my abilities. I figure that were going to be living together for the next seven years minus the summers. We need to be able to trust each other, but I do have a bit of security. Two of the features on the trunk are that no one but me can open it, and that no one can move it when I am in it. So, should I actually leave it somewhere, it and its contents will be protected." Harry began changing for bed.

Ernie and Justin nodded, following suit, "Good thinking, wish I could afford one." Ernie said, "Those things are outrageously expensive."

Harry smiled, a little embarrassed at his extravagant purchases, "Yes, well ... in strictest confidence, my 'relatives' are not the greatest people alive. They have this idea of normal and anything that doesn't fall into that mould is hidden away. When I arrived I was the personification of anything and everything they hated and feared, so I was not treated as a member of their perfect family. In keeping with that they gave me only the barest essentials to stay relatively healthy and prevent any outside suspicion. I never had toys, new clothing, adequate food, the list goes on. So when I finally came to the wizarding world and found myself the heir to my parents' fortune, I splurged a bit."

Ernie and Justin were shocked and appalled by this revelation. They had never imagined that the famous Harry Potter could be treated this way by his own family.

Harry frowned, "Keep in mind, I did not tell you this trying to garner your sympathy. I have severed ties with my relations and don't intend on ever going back. I just didn't want you to think I was full of myself, or thought I deserved this stuff because of my fame. I actually don't like being famous for something I had no control over, in all actuality, the only thing I'm famous for is surviving something no one else has. That's nothing to be proud of or to flaunt about; I see that as a slap in the face to the friends and relatives of those that _didn't_ survive."

The boys were beaming and nodding by the end of this, "You are just a normal guy, aren't you? That's all you want to be seen as." Justin commented while climbing into his four-poster.

Harry nodded emphatically, "More than anything." He said, pulling his hangings closed and settling into bed. Thinking about the odd warning Dumbledore had given them 'the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side was out of bounds to everyone who did not want to die a very painful death'. It was a real test of trust for him to expect a school full of children not to satisfy their curiosity.

{O.o}

The next morning at the Hufflepuff table, Harry received his class schedule from Professor Sprout. After briefly scanning it he looked to the three other house tables and his first friends. Neville seemed to be getting on well with two of his Gryffindor house mates; he nodded to Harry and sent a glance down the table to Ronald Weasley, who was scowling into his porridge, seated between his twin brothers, who were studiously ignoring him. Raising an eyebrow at this Harry looked to Hermione at the Ravenclaw table, finding her chatting avidly with one of the twin girls that was sorted last night, a Padma Patil. After a few attempts, he caught her eye and she nodded as well. Finally looking to the Slytherins he found Draco seated next to a dark-skinned boy whose name Harry only remembered because he was sorted last, Blaze Zabini and he were having a polite conversation over their breakfast; Harry could see that the other Slytherins were a bit taken aback by Draco's sudden change in attitude. Two hulking boys and a pug-faced girl seemed at a bit of a loss and were watching the conversation between the two with confused expressions on their faces. Harry caught the eye of his final friend and received his nod as well.

After finishing their breakfasts, the four friends met up in the entrance hall and compared schedules. The Slytherins and Gryffindors had most classes together while the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs shared the most, though there were a few exceptions. That mornings' class was Charms for Harry and Hermione and Potions for Draco and Neville. Talk then turned to their new roommates and Neville started off with the Gryffindors.

"Well, the Weasley boy is just as much a bigoted jerk as his first impression on the train implied. He immediately snitched on you to the other Gryffs about being a Parselmouth. Half of them were about as horrified as he was, until I told them you were my friend and a nice guy, and about Merlin and so forth. Also that I'd held your snake and she was very friendly as well. Well, after a few odd looks they all seemed to calm down and his brothers, the twins, got on to him for telling someone else's business. They asked him if he would like it if someone told all his secrets to people, like the reason he was afraid of spiders. He got all red-faced and left after that. Their names are Fred and George by the way, but don't ask me to tell you which one is which, I can't differentiate between them. The other two in my room are Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, a muggle born and half-blood respectively, so far they're pretty cool."

Hermione picked up from there, "The Ravens are all pretty nice, although there are a few who are kind of stuck up. One of the girls in my room and I really hit it off, her name is Padma Patil and her twin sister, Parvarti, is in Gryffindor with Neville, apparently she's a bit of a gossip girl, not at all like Padma. There wasn't any drama like Neville had," She grinned at him, "as no one spilled the beans about your abilities, but it was lovely meeting all the other Ravens." Harry had told her about being a Parselmouth when they were waiting to be sorted. She had treated it about like Neville had, and was looking forward to meeting Arc.

Draco stepped up for his turn, "The Slytherins are an 'interesting' group," he started, making the air quotes Harry had liberally use the previous day, "Half of them are what I use to be, death eaters in training, the others are on the fence. Although I caused quite a stir when I sided with the non-death eaters," he looked pleased at having caused confusion in the ranks. After the long talk he'd had with Harry and Neville on the train about their parents and what had happened to them and others by the death eaters, he had come to realize that his father was very wrong in some of his thinking and that he would no longer blindly follow him, or anyone whose views he did not believe in. "Blaze Zabini is one of the 'on the fence' first years I met. He's smart, and once he found out I was not following my father he and I talked a lot."

Harry finished off, "The Puffs are a great group, they really stress inner-house co-operation. Apparently all the other houses harass them all the time, thinking they're weak. The two guys I'm rooming with are nice, Ernie MacMillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley, I told them about Arc and my abilities right off the bat because I'll be rooming with them for seven years and something like that would be hard to keep a secret. They were really cool about it. Ernie's got a great, great, so on, uncle who's one, so he can relate." The bell rang just as Harry finished and the group split in two to go to their respective classes, Charms for the Puffs and Ravens and Potions for the Gryffs and Snakes.

{O.o}

Harry and Hermione headed to Professor Flitwick and Charms. As they took their seats in the front the wee Professor climbed up a staircase of books and took his place behind a podium. He began the class by taking attendance. When he reached Harry's name he looked up at him and crooked an eyebrow, a silent acknowledgement of their previous conversation. Hermione looked from one to the other for a moment in confusion before shrugging and preparing to take notes. Class proceeded normally, with copious note taking before attempting to make the ends of their wands light up with a spell called Lumos, which Harry and Hermione nailed almost simultaneously.

After class they met up with Draco and Neville in the Entrance Hall. They all shared their views on their first classes and the teachers of those subjects. Professor Snape was apparently very conflicted during the Gryffindor/Slytherin class, hating the Gryffs while favouring the Snakes. Harry explained about the look Professor Flitwick had given him, and what it meant, before they all had to head to their next classes, Transfiguration for Harry and Draco and Defence against the Dark Arts for Neville and Hermione. They would soon discover that all the classes involved bountiful note taking for the next month, with all the really interesting spells not to be learned until much later in the year.


	9. Quirky Quirrell and Precious Parchment

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 9: Quirky Quirrell and Precious Parchment

Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not.

September, and their first month of school passed in a flurry of note taking, spell casting, and friend making. The friends the four had made on their first nights in their new houses had all joined their crowd, including the Weasley twins who had mentioned to Neville that they admired the way he had stood up for Harry in the face of Ron's immature narrow-mindedness. As their group was now twelve students strong they took to meeting in the Great Hall before breakfast, lunch, and dinner for updates. Anything from the subject matter discussed to the temperament of the professors to any odd occurrences by the class was mentioned to the others. At the end of each day, after dinner they all met again in the library for an hour of homework, helping each other in weak areas and double-checking each other's work. While Fred and George were two years ahead of the others, and had already done the material, they were able to give them insights on easier ways to achieve the same goals and shortening their work load, while getting quizzed from their books by the others.

Professor Flitwick had warmed up to Harry after seeing his dedication and the classes were becoming more interesting, as they were preparing to begin more difficult spell work soon. Likewise, Professor McGonagall, who had started frosty towards Harry due to their previous encounter, had taken to him as she too had been impressed by his work ethic. Professor Sprout had been thrilled when Harry had been sorted into her house and had been, and continued to be pleasant and friendly to Harry. Perhaps the oddest turnaround was Professor Snape, who seemed at a loss as to how to treat Harry. He had seemed positive that he was a clone of his father, and his placement in Hufflepuff had thrown the preverbal wrench into the works. He was a smart man, whatever his eccentricities and he knew that James Potter would have never been a Hufflepuff, but he couldn't help but see James when he looked at Harry. They were, as had been made _abundantly_ clear by anyone who had known James, oddly identical, excepting, of course, his mothers green eyes. Therefore, Severus Snape had taken to treating Harry as just another random non-Slytherin student, giving no praise and plenty of criticism, but not specifically singling him out.

The teachers Harry had that he hadn't met before school were his Astronomy, History of Magic, and Defence Against the Dark Arts professors. Astronomy was done at midnight once a week and involved long hours of staring what stars they could see and mapping their locations. Lily had explained to Harry about the planetariums in the Muggle world when he was shopping in Diagon Ally and James had mentioned what a crock Astronomy Class was due to being so far north and not able to see many of the constellations. Consequently, Harry had splurged on a miniature moving planetarium, with adjustable features that allowed him to see any constellation in the sky, and do better work than their location allowed. He also, of course, shared the model with his group of friends.

History of Magic was an exceedingly boring class, taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had died in his chair in the staff room and his ghost had gotten up the next day to continue classes. Lily and James knew from their own experience with the insubstantial instructor that Harry would never be able to retain anything if he tried to stay awake during the class. So for this lesson only, they agreed to help him. Harry spent the class meditating, working with his parents in his mindscape to organize the information his subconscious perceived into his memory library, so that when it came time to take tests he would be able to recall it. Harry was on the receiving end of a brief lecture from Hermione for sleeping in class before he explained about the meditation and gave an example; quoting a bit of the class from a point she believed him to be fast asleep. She immediately wanted to learn how to do it.

"It'll take a long time to be able to prepare your mind for that kind of meditation." Harry tried to explain.

Hermione was adamant, "I don't care Harry, if it can help me retain information from this class without writing down every word he says I need to know it."

Harry conceded, "Alright, but it will take a lot of work, I'll show the others how to do it too. It'll be part of our studying after dinner; we may have to extend the study time though.

Hermione was content with this and it was brought before the group when they met before lunch. It was greeted with much enthusiasm, as many of them did not have the ability to stay awake in the class, much less take notes.

Then there was the oddball Professor Quirrell. The stuttering Defence professor seemed ill suited for the job, and as time wore on Harry and his parents started to notice more and more curious behaviour from their twitchy teacher. His first oddity was, of course, the most obvious: his turban. A putridly purple affair that reeked of garlic and rot, it was widely rumoured that it was stuffed with actual garlic to ward off vampires, however the Weasley Twins admitted in private that they had started the rumour as a joke. Of course, anyone who would really look into this rumour would discover that it was absolute malarkey.

The other peculiar thing about him was not as easy to notice: his stutter. It wasn't that the stutter was hard to hear, on the contrary, one could barely understand him at times. It was that, occasionally, it seemed as though he 'forgot' to stutter, and he would complete full sentences before starting again. Every now and then, if Harry paid close attention, he would notice Quirrell catch himself and twitch or shake his head minutely. As if to remind himself that he was supposed to be stuttering. After the second time this happened Harry started looking for and finding it more and more frequently. The Potters couldn't figure out why someone would want to fake a stutter. As James so eloquently put it, "That would get bloody annoying." It was Lily who pointed out that it would make one seem less of a threat and easily underestimated. Thinking on this they decided to keep an eye on Quirrell, especially when he forgot to stutter.

As the days moved into October, another abnormality of Quirrell's surfaced. While in all their other classes they were beginning to practice actual spells and potions, Quirrell still had them studying and doing book work. They never used their wands and never had a practical class. The other students were either miffed at the lack of learning or pleased at having such an easy class. Harry however, was suspicious, and after mentioning to his group of friends the mounting bizarre quirks of their professor, they were as well. In fact, Quirrell seemed to be getting more and more nervous as the end of the month drew near; shifting around in class, jumping at sudden sounds, and talking to himself under his breath with nary a slur. Everyone agreed that he seemed to be psyching himself up for something and decided to prepare as well. Each house specific cluster of friends started to follow him in shifts, with the twins taking a shift to themselves, sticking together so no one was caught on their own with him. Finally, a week from the 31st, they had a breakthrough when Padma and Hermione overheard him mutter; "I'll do it on Halloween, during the feast. Yes, that will be best, no snotty brats in the way then."

With this bit of information, Harry and the others stopped following him, waiting for the fateful night for him to act. That evening the twins, after a whispered conversation between the two of them, gathered the group together in their usual spot in the library and presented them with an old, blank piece of parchment. Most of the crowd were confused, waiting for the punch line to this bizarre joke. Harry however, due to James whooping like a school boy and shouting about his lost map, grinned widely. This did not go unnoticed by the twins, who had been looking to Harry, as the unofficial leader of the group, first for his reaction when they 'turned it on'. His grin gave them pause, however, and they shared a glance before laying it on the table in front of Harry and crossed their identical arms in unison. Harry looked from them to the map and back again.

"What do I do?" he asked James. He knew the phrase to activate it, of course, but to do that would invite a slew of questions he was not prepared to answer.

Fred interrupted his internal conversation before it got started, "Well Harry, care to explain why you are so excited to see a bit of old parchment?"

Harry blinked a few times; buying his time while James gave him hurried instructions. "Well, you guys presented it with such flair, and, you're you. I've come to expect something really brilliant to happen when you give such a mundane object such an exciting introduction."

The twins preened at the praise and accepted the excuse, turning with the rest of the group to the parchment and Harry visibly relaxed, until he noticed Neville still watching him and growing more and more curious. Realizing he had been caught in his lie he minutely shook his head and mouthed 'later'. Breathing a sigh of relief as Neville nodded, he turned to the twins just as they intoned together, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

James was dancing around Harry's mindscape with Lily as the black lines wove themselves into the map of Hogwarts, popped up into wee footprints complete with names, and finally scrolled out into intricate writing, proclaiming: Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs present The Marauders Map. James started babbling on about the spells they invented to get it to show people and how it couldn't be fooled by polyjuice, animagus forms, or invisibility cloaks. When the writing appeared he grew more nostalgic and murmured that it was Moony's handwriting, as he had the best penmanship. How it was Padfoot's genius with spellwork that got it to show movement. How he himself had spent hours in this very library trying to find a spell to see through invisibility cloaks. He begrudgingly admitted that it was Pettigrew - he refused to use his marauder name, saying he had lost that privilege - who thought of having it insult who ever gave it the wrong password.

"Peter was the one who lost it," James said, sitting back down, "In our sixth year. By then he was the only one who needed it on a regular basis, the rest of us had the castle memorized. He was cutting through a secret passage when he ran into Filch, how he didn't see him on the map I'll never know. He was able to wipe it, though, before Filch took it from him."

Meanwhile, everyone was pouring over the map, amazed at the detail and spellwork. Hermione was especially amazed, "There are a lot of complicated spells on this! Who made it?"

"We don't know their real names..." George began.

"My dad and his friends made it." Harry said, surprising everyone, including his parents. Internally he said, "I want you to be remembered for more than being the parents of The Boy Who Lived, and I can chalk this one up to memories. After all, I do remember Moony and Padfoot." He had intentionally left out Peter, following his father's lead. The glow of pride on James' face gave Harry a small grin in the face of all of his friends' stares.

"How do you know that, Harry?" Draco asked, looking amazed and confused.

"I remember those names, I had an Uncle Moony, Uncle Padfoot ... Uncle Wormtail, and I remember my dad being called Prongs as often as he was called James." Harry took a deep breath, staring at the map, "Remus Lupin was Moony, Sirius Black was Padfoot ... Pe – Peter Pettigrew was Wormtail."

There was a shared glance throughout the group; obviously there was something they didn't want to tell Harry. Guessing, correctly, that it was about Sirius Black he headed them off, "I know what you're going to say about Sirius, and you're wrong." He smiled slightly at their shocked and indignant faces, "When I first entered the magical world, I went to Gringotts and saw my parents will. It stipulated that I was to go to one of five different people and was to NEVER go to my 'relations'. Those people were Sirius Black, Alice Longbottom, Remus Lupin, Poppy Pomfrey, or Amelia Bones. When I asked why that hadn't happened the goblins told me that Sirius was falsely imprisoned and that Peter Pettigrew was the true betrayer and murderer. Remus was and is a werewolf and was denied my custody, and Madams Pomfrey and Bones were never told, because of Dumbledore." He purposefully left out Neville's mum, letting him tell that story when he was ready. He had thought that everyone would focus on Dumbledore's interfering. However, it seemed Neville would have to decide now as Padma had picked up on the omission.

"What about Alice Longbottom, is that your mum Neville?"

Neville nodded and sighed deeply, "My mum ... and my dad ... were tortured into insanity with the Cruciatus Curse by Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr. They live in St. Mungo's now, in the long term ward." He paused and took a shuddering breath, as Harry placed an arm around his shoulders, "I visit them every holiday, they ... they don't recognize me."

The girls in the group by now were in tears, and the guys were in various levels of discomfort, none more so, however, than Draco. After a moment he got up and stood before Neville. Holding out his hand, he spoke in a wavering voice, "Nev, I am so sorry for what my family has done to yours. I want you to know that I will cast my aunt out of the family as soon as I have the power to do so, and I wish I could do something now to make up for what happened to your parents."

After a moment of shock Neville rose to his feet and took Draco's hand, "Draco, you have nothing to apologize for. You were only one when your aunt and uncle tortured my parents, though I do appreciate your offer to remove Bellatrix from your family. I know there is nothing able to bring my parents back, but having you and everyone else as friends has made it easier to live without them. "

Draco stood and they shook hands warmly, though Draco made a silent vow to do anything he could to return the Longbottoms to their right minds. Everyone smiled and the girls dried their eyes before Ernie blinked and turned to Harry, "Have you told Suzan that you were supposed to be in her Aunts care, or Madam Pomfrey?"

Harry shook his head, "I never had the opportunity as it's not really a good conversation starter. I'll try talking to them both after this Halloween mess is over."

With that the group broke up and headed to their dorms, heads filled with thoughts of Harry, Neville, Quirrell, and the manipulations of their Headmaster.


	10. Halloween Horrors

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 10: Halloween Horrors

Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not.

**A/N: Several people have commented on a few points that I'd like to address. First, Draco casting Trixie out of the family is not so much removing any position she has or doesn't have; it's more that he will not give her asylum should she ever come to Malfoy Manor, effectively banning her from his house. This would be a big problem for her as she would have nowhere else to go. Second, Pettigrew on the map, remember the twins have only had the map for two years at most. They said in Canon that they found it in their first year but not when in that year. It could have been at the end of the year. Also, I'm sure they had better things to look for on the map than their annoying brother(s), even for a prank. Rest assured though they will notice him sooner rather than later. Finally, Zacharias Smith, it is never mentioned when he was sorted, and I'm taking it as artistic licence that he was at least a year above Harry and crew and as he has such an abrasive personality Harry would have gone out of his way to avoid him, he may show up later though. On a more interesting note, I'm getting tired of calling them 'Harry and crew' or 'Harry and friends' so I pose this **_**CHALLENGE**_** come up with a good imaginative name for the group and you'll get credit in the A/N's, sorry that's all I can give, though my baby girl can give you a big slobbery baby kiss . Good luck and thanks for reading.**

With the map now available to the group, tailing Quirrell became much easier. Harry and his friends were able to keep tabs on Quirrell for the rest of the week leading up to Halloween. The day of the 31st dawned with nervous energy flowing through the students. For most it was the excitement of the feast that night, but for the twelve friends following Quirrell it was anticipation of what he was planning to do. For most of the day everything was normal, or as normal as a school of magic can be. However, when it came time to go down to the feast, the pulses of the twelve students and one professor started racing. Fred and George brought the map with them and sat at the end of the table near the door, and furthest from the teachers, with Neville, Dean, and Seamus sitting next to and across from them to keep people from seeing what they were doing.

There was a brief altercation when Ron demanded that Neville, who was next to them, move so he could sit with his twin brothers. They were lucky he was so rude about it or Fred and George would have had to be rather nasty to him for no apparent reason to get him to leave. As it was, his attitude got him snubbed by the group and he chose to sit at the other end of the table, closest to the teachers. Harry, Justin and Ernie, Hermione and Padma, and Draco and Blaze all sat at the same ends of their tables as the Gryffindors, and were able to fairly easily converse with one another across the aisles. The food had just appeared and the twelve were tentatively loading their plates when Quirrell dashed into the room, his face a mask of terror and his turban askew. He raced up to Dumbledore as all eyes followed him, twelve of those pairs narrowed in suspicion.

"Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know." He exclaimed to the Headmaster without a single stammer before he fainted dead away.

Harry and the others exchanged significant glances in the ensuing commotion; they each had noticed his lack of stutter. Harry could see the twins pouring over the map before looking up and shaking their heads in unison.

"It won't show non-humans, aside from werewolves." James said. "We needed the species available to program it into the map and the only one we had, or cared about at the time, was Moony."

Harry was about to answer when Dumbledore shot purple firecrackers from his wand and everyone quieted. "Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!" He ordered.

The majority of the school were already on their feet when Harry, bolstered by his parents, shouted over the din, "That's a terrible idea!"

You could have heard an owl pinfeather drop with how silent the Great Hall became after this proclamation. No one had ever contradicted Dumbledore before. He looked at Harry and quirked an eyebrow, is eyes twinkling annoyingly. "And why do you think sending the students to the safety of their dorms is such a bad idea, Mr. Potter?"

Harry succeeded in not rolling his eyes, though it was a close thing, "Because, sir, Professor Quirrell just said the troll was in the dungeons, and two of the Houses are in that direction. The Hufflepuffs are down a floor and the Slytherins are _in_ the dungeons, you really want to run the risk of sending them into the same location as the troll?"

Dumbledore blinked and shook his head, "You are quite right Mr. Potter," he turned to the teachers at the table with him, "Minerva, Filius, Severus follow me to secure the troll, the rest of you stay here with the students and seal the doors behind us." With that he and the three named professors swept out the door, closing it behind them.

Through the hullabaloo Professor Quirrell lay on the floor, ignored by almost everyone. After a few moments he sat up, looked around at the assembled students, the locked doors, and the remaining professors and a look of absolute fury passed over his face for a fraction of a second, before he stood and sat with his fellow professors. It could have gone completely unnoticed if it hadn't been for the twelve students, watching him for any bizarre reactions. Those twelve stood and formed a cluster next to the doors, so that Quirrell would have to pass them to leave. They knew they wouldn't be able to stop him, but they would know he was gone and be able to follow him on the map. After forming their huddle, Fred and George activated the map in the centre of their group and located the troll hunting professors. All but one, were in the dungeons. McGonagall and Flitwick were by the Slytherin dorms, and Dumbledore was by the potions lab. Judging by their pace and speed, they were just walking, and they hadn't found the troll yet. Snape, however, was heading straight for the forbidden corridor of the third floor. He entered the door leading to the corridor and suddenly started dancing around, acting very odd. They couldn't figure out what he was doing, but given the warning from Dumbledore they assumed he was dodging something.

{O.o}

What the inhabitants of the castle didn't know was that the troll wasn't in the dungeons. He was currently roaming around the second floor, knocking paintings off the walls and crushing suits of armour. The residents of those frames that got damaged would have summoned the professors, but for one minor success in Quirrell's plan; the only portrait in the dungeons was a still life. A bowl of fruit that doubled as the door to the kitchens, and was incapable of housing any other painted creation. Also, there were no paintings in the Great Hall, so no one was able to be told of the damage occurring to the second floor until the three professors returned from the dungeons. The troll had been causing plenty of carnage on the second floor when it came to a staircase and stopped, it looked up towards the third floor and down towards the first floor before tromping down the stairs to the Entrance Hall dragging his club behind him. It trudged over to the doors to the Great Hall, and, behind them, the student population of Hogwarts. Harry and his friends, positioned near the door as they were, heard the club thudding down the stairs and scraping along the floor, growing louder and louder as it grew closer to the doors. They looked at each other in shock and fear before rushing to the high table and causing the hum of conversation to quiet.

"It's right outside the door! We could hear it coming down the stairs! The troll is out there!" Harry said to the teachers staring at them. If he'd had the option he wouldn't have told Quirrell, but as he was sitting with the others there was no avoiding it. Professor Sprout rose to her feet and held her wand above her head to draw all eyes to her without arousing the suspicion of the troll outside the door.

"We must remain quiet and calm, all first through fourth years get back here by the high table, sixth and seventh years in front of them to protect them." She turned to the other teachers, "We'll stand in front of the students. If that troll gets through those doors we have to protect the students." Everyone moved into place as the troll banged on the door, it shook ominously, but held. The teachers and upper years pointed their wands at the door and waited. The door shook in its frame again as the troll pounded on it, apparently smelling the people inside. Harry and his friends were pouring over the map, watching Dumbledore and the other professors still walking through the dungeons, obviously oblivious to the plight of the students. Snape however was rushing back to the Entrance Hall; his inked footsteps seemed a bit erratic, as if he were having trouble walking.

Suddenly the doors crashed inwards, one flying completely off its hinges. It sailed over the heads of the assemblage and crashed into the wall above the younger years where Professor Sinestra, the Arithmancy professor stuck it to the wall with a well aimed sticking charm. Meanwhile, the troll had shuffled into the room and spied the masses of people.

It roared mightily, swinging its club over its head before slamming it into the marbled floor. Hagrid, the Grounds Keeper, jumped to the side and leapt at the troll, wrapping his great arms about the trolls' meaty neck. The troll was stronger than Hagrid, but the half giant had a good four inches on the twelve-foot tall troll, not that it made much different. The troll spun, flinging Hagrid in an arc, causing the teachers nearby to back up. They pushed the students further back and erected shields surrounding the spectators as the troll swung backwards with its club, smashing Hagrid across the back. Hagrid released his death grip on its neck and dropped to the floor, kicking out its feet and knocking it down also

The crash was like the clanging of the gates of heaven, dust floating down from the rafters as the titans wrestled and trade punches, each trying to gain control of the massive club. The brawling pair moved so fast that none could get on to the target. Finally, after what felt like minutes, the troll found itself pinned to the floor, Hagrid's knees upon its shoulder as he raised the weapon high and brought it down with a sickening crunch.

He stood shakily and leaned against the remaining door to the great hall as Snape finally appeared in the Entrance Hall, ashen faced and dragging a badly broken and bleeding leg. Madam Pomphry, who had been tending to Hagrid as best she could, hurried quickly over to Snape and set his leg with a wave of her wand. The pain proved too much for the head of Slytherin house, who slumped to the floor unconscious. Waving her wand again she levitated him into the Great Hall and onto the Slytherin table.

Hagrid, meanwhile, had stretched out on the Hufflepuff table and was slowly removing his moleskin coat and the shirt beneath. It was immediately obvious when the shirt came off that many of his ribs were broken, a few protruding from his darkly tanned skin. The shield spells were removed and the students moved forward to the tables, a few sitting, most standing, all still in shock. Several had thrown up during the fight and a few had fainted; including, apparently, Professor Quirrell again. Harry and his friends had been near the back corner where the door had hit. Padma had been one of those who had fainted, right at the beginning, when the door nearly fell on them, before Sinestra had stuck it to the wall. They had placed her under the High Table, hoping it would keep her safe if things could have possibly gotten anymore pear shaped.

Madam Pomphry had given the troll's head wound a superficial examination and pronounced the creature dead before Professors Sprout, Sinestra, and Vector levitated the trolls' body out of the front doors and onto the grounds. Just as they were passing it out the doors Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick returned from the dungeons. Madam Pomphry spied them immediately and rounded on them, "Just where the bloody hell were you three? I've got the entire student population in shock, a Potions Professor with a shattered leg, and a Game Keeper with thirteen broke ribs. We could hear that thing tromping down the stairs from the first floor! There's no telling where it came from and what it destroyed on the way here!"

Professor Dumbledore was staring at the body floating out the front doors, following the drip of blood from its head to the trail of it leading to the Great Hall. He looked with wide eyes at the massed students, many of them shaking and crying. He looked to the pale forms lying on the two house tables, and the many unconscious students scattered about the floor. He turned and looked at Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, both of whom had sat down, looking faint. McGonagall had tears in her eyes and Flitwick was shaking like a leaf. Professor Dumbledore turned back to Madam Pomphry and shook his head, "We didn't hear it, we were in the lower dungeons, I am so sorry." He looked around at the traumatized students, "Everyone, I am so sorry."


End file.
